


Over Gravity

by 0MissNoire0



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Anorexia, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Marriage, Bill is back, Bud is concerned, Bulimia, But he's really weak, But he's still a sweetheart, Eventual Possession, F/M, Feedback Is Much Appreciated, Gen, Gideon is the new lanternbearer, Greg is sneaky, Greg tags along, Hallucinations, He needs souls, I'm trying to be original, Kidnapping, Mabel's a flirt, Manipulative Bill Cipher, Non-Consentual Traveling, Other, People are going missing, Poor Wirt, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Greg, Protective Pines Family, So's The Beast, Summerween, Therapy, Wirt and Greg's parents are concerned, Wirt is sent to Gravity Falls, Wirt's not going down without a fight, or are they?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-04-24 11:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4918462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0MissNoire0/pseuds/0MissNoire0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On October 31st, 2014, brothers Wirt and Greg tumbled over the wall and entered The Unknown. They were able to return with little harm done but not everyone got out unscathed. The Beast has definitely left his mark on young Wirt, even in presumed death, by haunting him every chance he gets, reality or not—or at least, that's how it seems. </p>
<p>   Concerned for his health and safety, his parents believe what's best for him is to get out of town, away from the bad memories, and see some new fresh sights. Gravity Falls, Oregon, seems like a nice little place, all quiet and secluded. However it doesn't take long for Wirt and Greg, who was asked to tag along to keep his brother's spirit up, to notice just how odd this town really is...and no, being kidnapped by gnomes, fighting off hybrid monsters, celebrating Halloween in the middle of summer, being a living attraction for a money-hungry scamming old man, and being stalked by an inter-dimensional one eyed triangle demon doesn't classify as "normal" to the average tourist, thank you very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frozen

"Wirt! Wirt! Come on! Wake up!"

With a tired sigh, the teenager only rolled over to his side, burning his face in his pillow and roughly shoved the tiny yet strangely bony hands away from their current position, digging into his rib cage. His thin lips curled into the tiniest of smirks when he heard his little step-brother huff in annoyance and the sounds of the bed squeaking, signaling his departure. 

His peace, however, was quickly shattered when he felt a sudden weight on his hip and stomach, those tiny and bony hands back again to shoving into his non-muscular body, this time much harder. He groaned loudly, slamming his head hard against his warm, fluffy pillow, his dark hair a complete mess with his long bangs tickling his nose. 

Greg squinted and bit down on his bottom lip, confusion settling in as his attempts of shaking his big brother out of bed were futile. Or at least, that's what it seemed. "Come onnnnn, Wirt! Get upppppp!" He urged, bouncing up and down on his flat stomach with impatience, making him groan and hiss in pain and slight irritation. 

One minute later, and the sight of a thick mop of brown hair was replaced by that of his brother's pale and tired face, one eye open yet squinting at him. Despite the apparent annoyed look on his face, there was still a faint ghost of a smile. 

"Okay, okay, I'm up! What do you," he paused to yawn and sleepily rub at his eyes, "want, Greg? It's...what? Three in the morning?!? Why are you up right now? We have school tomorrow!" 

He watched with a rapidly beating heart and a panicked expression as Greg's happy smile grew and there was the slightest hint of mischief. Not a good sign, knowing just how much trouble his little brother could get into, despite being only eight years old.

"Not today!" 

Wirt felt his heart race. A breeze swept through his room and brushed delicately against his nape. He shivered and curled up further into the sheets, not that it was much help anyway. Why was it so cold in there anyway? "Oh my gosh. Greg, what did you do?" 

The little boy huffed and placed his hands on his round hips, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. When he saw Wirt's confused and dazed (he was still really tired), his cheerful smirk was back on and there was a light shining brightly in his big brown eyes. 

"Just come with me, brother o' mine!" 

That was all he heard before he was roughly yanked and pulled out of bed by the wrist, Greg had quite the grip when he was really excited, all while dragging his bedsheets behind him in an attempt to stay warm. Wirt was actually shocked by how excited his little brother was, whatever was going on must've been really huge, and nearly tripped over his own feet several times on the way downstairs. 

When Greg finally let him go, they were in the living room, dark and deserted with all the binds closed and even the crickets nestling in the corner of the room were as quiet as a mouse. Wirt stood there, in the middle of the cold room with scratchy carpet, wrapped up in thin freezing sheets and looking throughly annoyed.

If Greg was playing one of his games with him this early in the morning, so help him, he'll get such a rude awakenin-

He was cut off from his crankiness-driven thoughts when he heard the sound of a lock slowly clicking and sliding out of place. Looking up, his eyes widening when he saw Greg step outside into the darkness of early morning. Heart racing, he could barely contain his panic as he raced after him, dragging his river of sheets behind him. "Greg!" He hissed, not daring to increase his voice even the slightest in fear of waking up their parents. 

"What do you think you're doing? Get back in here!" He stood in the doorway, praying for God that he didn't wander off mindlessly like always. Not in the cold darkness, right within arms reach, just like...the last time. 

He heaved a sigh of relief upon hearing that cheerful giggle just a few feet from where he was standing. Opening the door wider, his jaw dropped when he saw what was really happening.

Snow.

Snow was falling everywhere, like beautiful crystals gleaming in the faint light they caught, piling up on the ground into giant mounds already. Wirt slapped himself, literally, to be sure this wasn't a dream. The stinging feeling on his cheek screamed at him that this was definitely real. 

Greg was in their front yard, twirling around and jumping in large mountains of thick crunchy white powder, sending large puffs of wispy white smoke everywhere. Flakes were decorating and sprinkling in his dark hair, a large toothy smile on his face as he sang. 

"Ooh! It's snowing, cold and soft, and it gets on all my clothes, but I don't care because I have no school! Hooray for snow! Hooray for snow! Come on and play with me, my bro! Hooray for snow! Hooray for snow! We're gonna have no school for the day-o!" 

Wirt chuckled and his grip on the door started to slack off as he started to relax, although he was still rather chilly thanks to the nippy air. Greg always had a talent for making up songs on the spot and most were often better than what he heard on the radio any day, not to mention ridiculously catchy. In fact, that little ditty he just chimed out sounded an awful lot like "Adelade Parade", a song that was one time a symbol of hope and happiness only to now be a reminder of just how ironic their entire journey was in the end. 

He felt a small pang in his chest upon thinking back to their, ahem, "adventure" to The Unknown, which many had brushed off as simply a dream made of a near-death experience. Guilt formed a tight choking feeling around his throat, making him attempt to clear his throat to try and get rid of it. It was hard trying to ignore everything that had happened there, real or not. You can't just ignore something that big. 

Greg embraced the memories with positivity, understandable since he was only a child and too naive to understand what was really happening. He didn't know what The Beast had planned for him. What he would've become had The Woodsman and Wirt hadn't been there at the right time. 

Wirt shuddered at that memory, for obvious reasons. Sometimes he couldn't help but think what would've actually happened to the both of them had he really went through with his "deal" with The Beast instead of finding a loophole in his lies. Had he become the second lantern-bearer of the dark woods. He already knew that that monster wouldn't have gone through with his part, instead relying on mental manipulation. What would become of him then? Would he just aimlessly wander around The Unknown for the rest his life...or death. 

What would've happened to him in this life then? 

He blinked and snapped out of these thoughts when he saw Greg pack a handful of snow and stare at it with a bizarre fascination and a large happy grin. The older boy chuckled and leaned against the doorway, a smile planted on his face only to drop quickly when he saw his brother turn and give him the evilest of smiles. He then had to duck and dodge a flurry of snowballs aimed at his head while Greg laughed and, in an instant, the war was on. 

Wirt knelt down from his safe position in the doorway, scooping up large chunks of cold powdery softness, and rolling them into large snowballs. He hissed upon feeling a freezing stinging feeling in his palms and fingers, thanks to not wearing gloves. Looking up at Greg, he finally noticed that he was dressed in red rubber snow boots and thick wool mittens. He still wore his thin striped pajamas, but he was still dressed much better than his big brother. 

He squeaked when he felt himself get smacked hard in the face with a sudden rush of coldness and pieces of frozen chunks plastered all over his face. His eyes narrowed when he saw Greg do a little victory dance, bouncing up and down with a disturbingly happy expression on his face. "Ha ha! Victory! I can smell my victory, Captain Wirt!"

The boy chuckled, wiping away the pieces of snow off his face and his hair, as he stood back up and dusted his powder-covered hands off. He went to retort, he instead froze. 

In the darkness of early morning, the streets were quiet and lightless, save for the street lamps on the occasional sidewalk, but he couldn't help but feel as if they were being watched by someone—or something. 

In the darkness of night, he saw a pair of bright ovular lights, side by side. They looked like headlights, save the car. They were close to one another, almost like a pair of...

He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. No, no, this wasn't real. This was all his imagination; his tired, worn out imagination based on his own paranoia and fear. That's what his therapist had told him, so it must have some level of truth, right? When he reopened his eyes, the lights in the dark were gone. 

With a relieved sigh, he started to walk back inside only to pause when he heard Greg ask curiously, "Surrendering already, captain?" 

He turned his head, glancing over his shoulder over at him. His lips curled into a small mischievous smirk. "Not today, Gregory. I've just gotta get into something a little more...you know, comfortable. You know what I mean?" 

Said little boy glared at him and stuck his tongue out in distaste at hearing his full name. "Okay, Walter, hurry up." 

Wirt's face scrunched up in distaste but he still chuckled at his comeback. "Oh, you wound me, young skipper. Heh, heh, heh...I'll be right back." 

With that awkwardly said and done, he spun around and walked into the house, quietly shutting the door behind. He sneaked up to his room and put on his gloves, a scarf, his boots and a fur hat. As he walked downstairs, he glanced at the old clock leaning against the wall. 

Hm, 3:10 in the morning...3:10 IN THE MORNING?!? 

Panic poured throughout his throbbing veins and pulsed against his thundering heart. He raced for the door, twisting the freezing knob at lightening speed. He could still feel the cold even through the warm material of his gloves. He threw the door open, cringing as he heard the squeaking of the hinges. An icy blast of wind assaulted his poor uncovered face and he squinted through the flurry of pouring snowflakes. He could just barely make out the silhouette on Greg playing in the snow, blissfully another of the storm that was starting to brew up in the neighborhood.

"Greg!" He hissed, trying to be as quiet and discreet as possible. If anyone was awake and looking in that direction at the time, hopefully they ether wouldn't have recognized them or just didn't know who lived in this house. His mom and Jonathan would have double heart attacks at the thought of their only children doing something as risky and stupid as wandering into a snowstorm in early morning. No, that would not be good at all.

He saw the head of the chubby shadow-y figure turn and look over at him, tilting to the side curiously. With a sigh of relief, he cupped his hand around his mouth and called out, "Get in here quickly! And be quiet, you don't want to wake-no, wait, don't come in yet! Stay right there! I'll get a towel to dry you off, you probably look like a mess right now! Don't wander off! Stay right there, okay! Stay. Right. There. Don't. Movveee....got it?" 

The round small silhouette shrugged his tiny shoulders and then plopped down on the ground, sending snow flying everywhere without a single care in the world. Greg smiled brightly and saluted, not noticing him heave a sigh at his antics. "Aye aye, captain!" 

Wirt sighed and went to get a towel, reopening the door in less than two minutes and hurriedly shoving his brother into the house, while freaking out about him tracking in snow as quietly as he could; but that was a feat easier said and done. Especially when Greg decided it was his decision to speak his mind, and as loud as possible. 

"Hey! What's the rush? The war isn't over yet, captain! The battle shall commence!"

"Shhh!"

"You shush!"

Wirt rolled his eyes as he tugged him upstairs, pulling off all winter garments and putting them in their proper place while Greg still complained over having his fun interrupted so rudely by "stupid time". It's very rare to see his young brother so annoyed by such a mundane thing as snow, but then again, it was very rare to see to see that as well. 

Throwing a big fluffy towel over his head, he ruffled his hair, all spiked up thanks to his playing around. "We can play battle later," he muttered as Greg glared at him with those large, always gleaming, eyes, "when we can have more players."

Greg immediately lightened up at the mention of this, a wide smile stretching across his puffy cheeks. "Is Sara coming over?" 

Wirt coughed, a faint blush dusting over his pale cheeks. He really hoped Greg couldn't see his face in the darkness of his room. Ever since Halloween, they've been hanging out more and more and, while Wirt was getting less shy or stutter-y with being around her, he wasn't ready to fully admit his crush yet. Still, she was still really cool and was probably the only close friend of his that actually appreciated his clarinet playing-poetry indulging self, and not just out of pity like the rest of her little group. 

"M-maybe..." 

Still Greg pressed on. "What about Jason Funderburker; will he be coming too?" 

Wirt felt his teeth grind together, but he tried to keep his cool. Relax, there are two Jason Funderburkers we know, I just hope it's not the one I'm particularly thinking of right now. Clearing his throat, he pulled the towel away from his brother's mussed up brown hair. "Which one?"

An annoyed glare. "The frog! Duh!" Oh, that's right. He didn't know where that name really came from. In fact, they only really met on Halloween, but Greg was too wrapped up in his story telling to realize that the blonde was confusing his new frog for him. 

"Uh, yeah...right..."

He jumped back in surprise when Greg suddenly jerked away from him, spinning around with a bright gleam in his big brown eyes. Clasping his hands together, he looked as if he were ready to start singing. 

"Yay! I can't wait to tell him-" 

Wirt lunged forward and placed a thin finger against those wide and curled lips, eyes wide. "Shhhh! Do you want to wake mom and Jonathan?" His eyes narrowed when he saw him shake his head, but that cheerful smile was still plastered all over his face. 

"Hey Wirt?" 

The teen sighed and ran his hand through his hair that seemed persistent on standing up straight, rubbing the small space between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Yes Greg?" 

"Will Beatrice come too?" 

His head shot up. With his breath caught in his dry throat and his mouth hanging open, he hesitated. What would he tell him? Oh Greg, I'm sorry but Beatrice is dead and our entire journey throughout The Unknown was really us caught in the limbo and us defeating The Beast would impact whenever or not we live. Yeah, that not really cutting it, especially considering Greg's young age and unbreakable innocence. 

So instead, he flashed a small smile, shrugged, and softly muttered, "Maybe." 

As he moved to clean up any snow-related mess, he heard Greg mumble something under his breath. Turning around, he looked over the little boy to see him staring down at the floor, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. Concern controlled the following actions as he walked back over to him and kneeled, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" 

"You said that at Thanksgiving too..." 

He nervously swallowed but he still forced a smile on his face, rubbing the back of his head, he watched as Greg's eyes glance up at him with a shine that made him seem like he was crying. Oh god, don't let it have come to let.

"Greg, it's just...Beatrice is...she's just...very, very busy..."

"Too busy to visit us?"

Wirt was now starting to avoid his gaze, biting down on his bottom lip as he was trying to think up a clever excuse that his naive but still very smart brother. "Y-yeah, I guess so..."

Large eyes narrowed sharply and he flinched when he felt a chubby little finger jab him roughly in the side. "Well, next time you see her, tell her to stop being busy and get her butt over here to play with us! I miss her." 

Wirt felt his eyes tear up slightly, but he was quick to hide them as his hands began to twitch, much as they had when he was laying in a boat, freezing, what seemed like forever ago.

"Yeah...I...I miss her t-too, Greg. I'll be sure to..tell her...next time." 

Greg's frowning lips twisted into a bright and shining smile and he reached up to wrap his tiny arms around his brother's neck, who stiffened up at first but then slowly relaxed into the touch. "I can't wait to see her!" He flinched when he felt the hot breath tickling the cold shell of his ear. 

"Me too," he sighed into his brother's short and fluffed up hair. When they pulled away, he felt sweat begin drip down his temple when he saw just how happy Greg really did look. Guilt began to bubble up in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to have to deal with this right now. 

With his eyes darting to the sides and his fingers knitting together, he tried to avoid looking at that innocent face as he spoke, "Well, skipper, you better get yourself to bed. We have a big day tomorrow." 

He noticed the confusion on the boy's face and momentarily panicked, but he calmed down once he realized that he wasn't going to question him. "Okay, I will. Goodnight captain Wirt." 

Wirt felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips as watched the child hobble away, standing on his toes. 

"Goodnight skipper Greg." 

Once he was sure he was gone, getting the hint when he heard the sound of a door closing, he sighed and slumped down on his bed. He groaned when he felt a bubbling feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to puke, but he held it back. He didn't want Greg to see him like that or anyone for that matter. 

Glancing out the window, he froze when he saw those bright white circular lights peaking at him through the darkness of the early morning. 

Jumping up, he ran over to the window and yanked his blinds closed. He fell to his knees and hugged himself, shaking like a leaf. His breathing was shallow and while he did try to maintain a calm demeanor, he failed miserably. 

"Calm down, Wirt. He's not real. He's not real. He's not gonna get Greg again. Get a hold of yourself..."

But even through his crazed ramblings, he could still faintly hear:

Come wayward souls...

~ 

Elsewhere, the darkness dipped down on the small town save for the tiny white lights that shined throughout the streets. In that town, there was a graveyard, cold, vast, and empty. In that graveyard, there was a wall, old, cracked, and withered. 

On that wall, the tiny pale fingers of a tiny pale hand curled alongside the very edge. Five fingers were quickly joined by five more, and there was not only a slight grunt but the tips of moussed up snowy hair peaked up from behind the brick curation. 

With a heave, Gideon Gleeful climbed up and over the garden wall, soaked to the bone. In his stubby hand, he held a cold black lantern with the dimmest of lights but there was still some life left in the small object.

A large, smile stretched across his face like threads that make up a spiderweb. Giggling to himself, he reached into the pocket of the raggedy brown coat he wore and pulled out a fancy looking cell phone. There was the sounds of clicks and beeps and then the traditional, overly long, drawn out dial tone.

Then there was another click. "'Ello?" 

"Daddy, I'm back. Get over here; it's starting to snow and I'm not properly dressed. Now!"

"Did ya get wha ya needed?"

"Yes I did! Hurry it up, will ya? I'm freezing over here!"

"Don't worry, pumpkin. I'm driving around the corner now."

As he shook, his lips were molding into a sneaky grin, "Good." 

No later than when he hung up, a large red truck swerved around the corner at the entrance of the grave yard, one headlight cracked and the horn tired and groaning. Gideon squinted at the bright light that assaulted him, he had been in the dark for so long, but he tried to adjust as he hobbled over, skidding on the ice that the puddle he left behind had so quickly became. He was shaking like a leaf, trying to rub down the millions of tiny mountains on his arms, with his skin a deadly white, lips blue as the night sky, and his hair hanging in his face, still wet as a dog. The lantern swung each time he moved, but that little bit of light still stayed lit. 

Bud Gleeful's double-chimed head popped out from the driver's window, concern and relief all over his usually happy demeanor and a stark contrast to the permanent smile he seemed to have been working on for the last twelve years. Gideon paid no mind to this as he yanked hard on the car door, a warning growl bubbling in his throat before his father finally got the hint and quickly unlocked it. Powers or not, the Gleeful child was not one to anger so much and he was already clearly annoyed as was. 

"You sure took your time, old man," he grumbled as he plopped down in the passenger's seat, setting the lantern down in his lap and rubbing his frozen hands together, "turn the heat up!" 

Bud did as he was told, eyeing his son nervously. He was completely soaked and covered from head to foot in smeared snow. He was shivering, so much so that his teeth chattering was clearly audible. Still though, he smiled like always. 

"Ya'll sure took a long time in there," he hummed as he started the car back up. Gideon scoffed and rolled his eyes, already trying to brush the powdery substance off of him. 

"It was a lot longer in there than here. Dimension time zones sure are weird, not to mention the people aren't the smartest ether."

Bud's plump brown eyebrow rose at this, "Dimension? Now boy, you know what we agreed to: no spooky magic stuff. You've already giving our family a bad name because of your lies and schemes. Do you know how hard it is to go out in public after your extremely famous and once universally loved son gets arrested? I was lucky that I was even able to run for mayor! Or keep everyone else in town from knowing of our alliance!" 

Gideon hummed and anxiously rubbed the sides of the lantern, watching the tiny amount of dim light flicker and dance, smiling softly. "Oh, don't worry daddy. There won't be any spooky magic stuff this time-or, at least, not a lot."

"Why did you make me drive you all the way up here to get some old lantern if you're not going to do something that involves magic? Why do you need that darn thing anyway? I could get you any lantern you want back in Gravity Falls!"

Gideon giggled his trademark child-like giggle. "Oh daddy, you think this is just any old lantern? Oh no, no, no. This is a special lantern, you see. This holds the soul of one of the most powerful and feared entities of the entire multiverse!" 

He held the lantern up to his eye, watching the flame dance as the wind pushed it around. "Or what's left of it, at least. I'm doing a favor for an old friend of mine; he needs it for some reason. All I know is, if I give this to him, he'll help change this family's name! With his help, everything will soon go back to normal!"

Bud didn't really want to know, but curiosity killed the cat. "Back to normal? Wha do ya mean by that?"

Gideon's toothy smile stretched across his bone white face and went on for what seemed to be all eternity. 

"My powers. My fame. My fortune. My success. My luck! And with all that back and fresh at my hand, I can finally rule our town and make sure the world is rid of the Pines family once and for all!"

Then he laughed evilly, throwing his head back and cackling like mad. 

Bud bit down on his lip, trying to focus on the road. Something soon caught his eye and he lightly nudged his young son, cutting him off. Seeing his annoyed glare, he pointed up ahead.

"They have a Hen Hut just up this road. Ya want anything?"

Gideon tapped his chin in thought.

"Give me a five piece kiddie combo with extra fries and a milkshake. And don't forget the toy!"

He then resumed to his maniacal laughter.


	2. Ugly Eyes

As it turns out, later in the morning comes much more quickly than you're expecting when you spend the rest of the dawn passed out in bed while your much more energetic and wide eyed little brother spent that time eagerly checking up on you every hour or so. 

With one eye creaked open, he squinted through the brightness of the blinding light and groaned quietly to himself once he saw Greg standing in his doorway, already dressed up for the day.

"Come on, captain! The enemies are on the horizon!"

With a hiss, he rolled over onto his side and nuzzled his face deeper into his mushy pillow. "Not now, Greg. I'm trying to sleep..."

"But mom told me to wake you up. She said you're sleeping through the day or something like that..." 

Of course he would be the one to casually state news like that. There was a distinctly empty feeling in his stomach, but his tired eyes and pounding head screamed otherwise.

"Wake me up when the sky stops crying tears of ice on our hollow, shell-less sorrow..."

"What?"

"Leave me alone, Greg."

"But you promised..."

"Maybe later. I'm tired..."

There was a brief moment of sweet, miraculous, supple silence. 

"Sara's here." 

That sure did the trick because, in the span of thirty seconds, Wirt shot out of bed, kicked his sheets around for a bit, ripped off his pajamas, threw on a pair of slim dark jeans and a red wool sweater, and raced downstairs to see his parents sitting on the couch, each holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

His eyes darted around, searching for one particular person. "Sara?"

He watched his mother as she gave Jonathan an 'I told you so' look before flashing her son her sickeningly sweetest smile. Wirt felt something in the pit of his stomach churn once he caught sight of her holding out a plate of fresh waffles, complete with whipped cream and a bright red cherry.

"She's using the bathroom, honey. We were able to spare you some waffles, although Greg claims to be full." 

From the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of his little stepbrother leaning over the stair rail, staring dead at the plate with dangerously large eyes and drool slowly forming a swirling pool in the wonderful cave that was his mouth. 

"Uh, th-that's nice, mom, but I think I'm just going to sk-skip breakfast today," he muttered, nervous of her reaction. He hoped that none of his family, or friends for that matter, didn't notice his irregular eating schedule by now. He had always had a problem when it came to food, never being able to finish even the smallest proportions, but now it was getting bad. Every time he tried to eat, he felt sick. He had to always fight down the urge to puke after just one measly bite of a meal, although he'd try and hide it when others were watching. 

But his mother gave him a look of concern and he paled, a lump forming in his throat. "But you've already missed breakfast! You've got to be at least a little hungry!" 

He smiled, hoping to the highest that it was enough; he was terrible when it came to lying. "M-mom, I swear," he winced when he heard his voice crack. So much for confidence. 

He cleared his throat. "Mom...I swear, it's f-fine! I'm...I'm not that hungry anyway..." 

Greg watched this scene in surprise, his mouth hanging open. Wirt—his Wirt—the brother he's known his entire life, rejecting waffles? No! This wasn't possible! Some evil science jerk must've broken in last night and replaced him with a robotic drone because this was madness! 

Their mother and Jonathan exchanged uncertain looks but they seemed to buy the excuse anyway, or at least they pretended to. 

"Well...okay, if you insist. I'm still putting these in the fridge just in case you still want..."

Wirt heard his mother's voice trail off into simple echoes bouncing on the walls around him and the blurriness of morning suddenly became a lot more clear. 

Because, right at that very coincidentally timed moment, Sara entered the room. 

She looked at him, with those beautiful brown eyes, and smiled.

"Hey Wirt! We were just waiting for you!"

The teen felt his face flush at the happiness present in her voice. Sara happy to see him? It was as if this was a dream come true.

But alas, the rest of reality was quick to put this dream on a record screeching halt. 

"Well, heh heh, I uh...d-did you just say 'we'?"

She shrugged, nudging her slightly frizzy dark hair over her shoulder in the process. "Well, Greg told me you wanted a few more players..."

Wirt shot an irritated glare at Greg, who only happily beamed in response.

"Is that okay?" 

Looking back at her, he forced a sweet smile but his disappointment put it to a slight hold. "Y-yeah, that's uh...yeah, that's fine. Perfectly fine. So, uh, who's h-here?"

Sara shrugged, a soft smile of her face. "Just Kathleen, Rhondi, Jason...you know, our group." 

Wirt would've shown signs of annoyance at the mention of Funderberker, but he instead blushed and stared down at the floor so she would've notice. She was still smiling that beautiful, beautiful smile of her's. 

"O-our group?"

He heard her chuckle, his face beat red. 

"Of course. We're all friends right?" 

Swallowing hard, he looked up at her with a blank expression before it soon morphed into a small, yet forced, smile to match her's. He wished he could read her mind, so he would know. He needed to know if she knew yet; her friends knew, Funderberker knew, his mother and Jonathan knew, even Greg knew! But did she? 

"R-right..." 

Her head tilted to the side and she blinked with her mouth in a firm straight line, clearly confused. "Are you okay? You're stuttering a lot."

His blush deepened but he tried to play it off as cool as he could, ignoring his parents' chuckling. Even Sara showed slight amusement at his embarrassed face. 

"I-I know...I do it a l-lot..."

She chuckled, a laugh as beautiful as spring bells ringing on Sunday. 

"You coming?"

Wirt glanced up at her, staring in amazement as rays of light from the window shined on her, adding an extra shine to her dark hair and eyes. 

So, so beautiful.

He straightened his back out, stood tall, and cleared his throat. No time for lack of confidence now. 

"Yeah...I'm coming..."

He followed her out the door, the happiest he's been in his house in a long while as he threw on his furry winter coat. Brightness evaded his vision and he squinted through snowflakes pelting his warm face as he stumbled around. He could hear Kathleen's slightly flirty voice calling out to him and Funderberker stuttering out his hellos, but the only thing he was aware of was Sara calling out for him, what she was saying exactly was incomprehensible, the cold turning him into a shivering mess, and the ground suddenly turning very slippery. 

For a moment, he saw a flash of something dark and ugly, staring right at him with ugly white eyes. 

But, thankfully, his vision cleared and he was suddenly aware of Sara standing in front of him, a look of pure panic on her face and slim arms tightly holding him in place. 

"Wh-what h-h-happened?" His stuttered, looking around at his blurry surroundings, shivering uncontrollably. When has he ever been so cold. 

"You slipped on ice on the stairs. Thank god Jason caught you before you hurt yourself though. You could've hit your head or worse!"

"Yeah, you gotta be careful out here Wirt. There's ice everywhere," Kathleen added, specifically avoiding his gaze by instead looking around at the surrounding area, although there were still notable hints of concern in her voice,"in fact, let's go somewhere else, before he breaks his neck or something..."

"You looked real dazed there, Wirt. I almost thought you did hit you're head and we just didn't see it!" Rhondi laughed, playing with her bright red hair innocently. Everyone in turn gave her a glare.

"Not funny, Rhon," Kathleen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry."

Sara rolled her eyes, glancing back at Wirt with visible concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Wirt groaned and rubbed his head, which was starting to pound for some strange reason. Well, he was still tired but that was a given, as was the empty feeling in his stomach. Still, he tried to shrug it off and walked away, but that last part was rather difficult thanks to Funderberker's bone-crushing, and unwanted, hug from behind. 

"Ugh...I'm-I'm pretty sure I'm (Jason, you can let go of me now) fine."

She sighed in relief, running a hand through her hair. "Well, that's a relief. I really don't want to have a repeat of...n-nevermind, let's just catch up with Kath and Rhon..."

Wirt roughly shoved Funderberker's arms off and walked with her, shoving his ice cold hands in his coat pocket and pretending he didn't see that horned silhouette staring at him in the woods near his house. 

"Y-yeah let's...let's do that..." 

~

Back in the house, Wirt and Greg's mother watched as her eldest son walked into the fog with the rest of his little friends. She was happy that he was finally outside for a non-school related subject, but that only made her nerves about him accidentally hurting himself all the more prominent. 

He was never the same since that night and neither was she, becoming more protective of her children and aware of where they were going or who they were hanging out with. She never wanted to ever see them in the hospital in critical condition again, dangerously close to hypothermia.

She turned and watched Greg, watching him play on the floor in the living room with his frog, Jason Funderburker. Chuckling, she found herself glancing out the window just for a second just out of concern. It was cute for Wirt to name his brother's frog after one of his friends, but taking the full name made things more confusing when that boy actually was in the house. 

"Greg?" 

He looked up at her, with a happy smile and those large innocent eyes. "Yeah?"

"Go...go outside and play. I can't imagine how excited you are to make a snowman and I'm sure Wirt and his friends would enjoy your company..."

He jumped up, hugging Frog Funderburker to his chest as he saluted. "Aye aye, lady mom! Are you and shipmate dad coming as well?"

She chuckled, it was pretty hard to pinpoint when exactly Greg got so obsessed with pirates but no one could complain; he was always the imaginative one, making the most out of very mundane situations. 

"We will in a minute. You're dad and I have to talk about something real quick-"

"We do?" Came a muffled voice from the kitchen.

"-But we won't take long, I promise. Now go along, you don't want to lose your brother."

Greg giggled his innocent little giggle and ran over to his mother, hugging her legs enthusiastically. "Yes ma'am!" 

His mother chuckled and lightly petted her little ball of sunshine's soft brown locks before helping him get his coat off the rack. She kneeled down and helped him bundle up before sending him off with a soft kiss on the forehead, not noticing him eagerly pushing Frog Jason outside for the ride.

"Avoid any places that are shiny and slippery, okay?" She called from the door, sighing in relief when she heard a yes ma'am in the distance. She slowly pushed the door closed and leaned against for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before turning around to face Jonathan, who was chewing on one of Wirt's still warm waffles. 

"So what is this thing that you and I have to, quote on quote, 'talk about' exactly? You know it's dangerous to send Gregory out there without adult supervision! Geez, and I thought I was the careless parent!" 

"You still are," she sighed and pushing her dark hair out of her face, "but that's beside the point. The only reason I sent him out was because I just...I didn't want him to hear..."

"Annnd you couldn't just send him to his room for that?"

"There's a chance he could still overhear us, John," she sighed, wringing her hands together, "it's about Wirt."

"Sheil," he sighed, pausing from taking another bite of a waffle, "we've talked about this before-"

"I don't care! I just saw him almost kill himself-again! I can't stand this, John! Every time I see him, he looks scared and alone. I don't want to see that! I want to see my bright-eyed little boy again..."

"Well, Sheila, you have to realize that for the longest time, Walter's always been a little moody."

"Yeah, he's a little moody when he's being his normal melodramatic self, but this-whatever's going on with him-isn't just a 'little moody'. I can see it, John, I can see it in his eyes! Can't you?" 

"Come to think of it, he's being quieter than usual but then again, it could all be just a phase."

"A phase?!? You believe my little boy surviving from nearly being hit by a train and almost drowning is just a PHASE?!?"

"Whoa! Hey! Hey! Calm down! I didn't mean it like that, you know that, and besides, it wasn't just Wirt; Greg was in that accident too. I could've lost my sons that night too..." 

"I know, John. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." She sniffled, biting down on her lip. "I-it's just we...we came so close a-and...and I...if I lost him-both of them I would...I-I would...I wouldn't be able to live with myself!"

Jonathan set the plate of waffles down on the coffee table and enveloped his distraught wife in a hug, gently rubbing her back and shoulder blades with tender strokes. 

"I know, Sheila. I completely understand what you're going through right now. Wirt's my son too and, while we might not exactly get along all that well, I still care about him and his safety, as well as Gregory's." 

"I-I was always afraid this was gonna h-happen, John! Ever s-since Peter left, I al-always feared the d-day I would see him l-like this. He was eight b-back then, John! Eight years old! An-and I was the one t-to sit him down and t-tell him that...that daddy's not coming back! He was t-too young to know ab-about that kind of st-stuff! Then y-you came along an-and we g-got married and w-we had Gregory and I th-thought everything was gonna be fine! B-but then he became distant, always locking himself in his room and sneaking o-off! I was s-so worried something was gonna happen every time that h-happened! Then on Halloween, he snuck off again and...and he...oh god..."

"He's a teenager now, Sheila. He has friends, he has a social life, he has his own personal goals. Don't tell me you never snuck around a few times when you were fifteen."

"That's beside the point, John! I heard him throwing up a last Thursday!"

"Well, let's face it dear, you're medium rare isn't exactly up to quality-"

"He didn't eat any steak that night! He only ate the potatoes, and he loves potatoes, so I don't understand why he would just-"

"Maybe he was just sick."

"He would've told us if he wasn't feeling well, I know that!"

"Well then why else would he do that?"

"I spoke with his psychiatrist yesterday," Sheila sighed, feeling her eyes start to water again.

"And?"

"He thinks it's possible for Wirt to have PTSD."

There was a lengthy pause as Jonathan took this newfound information and processed it, slow and steady.

"...PTSD?"

"Yes..."

"PTSD as in...post-traumatic-stress-disorder PTSD?" 

"There's only one kind of PTSD, John." 

"Wh-what?"

"It was the incident on Halloween, John. It really shook him up. He's having nightmares—terrible ones. The man told me about how Wirt's explained some of the things he's seen, both in his dreams and apparently real life. Real life. Oh my god, my baby's hallucinating..." 

"What are these dreams about?"

"Most of them are about ether him or Greg getting lost and turning into a tree, slowly, while their still alive in excruciating detail! I-I don't even want to think about this..." 

Jonathan held his wife tenderly, stroking and lightly kissing her soft hair. 

"Is there anything else?"

Sheila looked up at him, sniffling and rubbing her eyes that shined with tears. 

"Well," she bit down on her lip, looking around nervously, "he did say some about a...a..."

"A what, Sheila? What did he say?"

She swallowed hard, wringing her hands together again.

"He's always talking about a beast..."

~

Elsewhere, in the beautiful fields of delicate white powder, Wirt, Greg, and Sara built a snowman, laughing, chatting, and being generally happy together, while Kathleen and Rhondi made snow angels and chatted like close friends usually do and Jason Funderberker tried to talk to a pretty woman and actually get her to laugh in a nice way, not just out of pity like the rest of the girls at their school.

But they failed to notice the single eye buried in the trunks of the both narrow and thick trees, watching them closely.


	3. Cold, Very Cold

"We're home."

Bud glanced down at his sleeping son, who had passed out sometime during the drive home, still pretty wet and holding that old lantern tightly in his grip. He felt something flutter in his chest upon seeing the rare image—never in a long time had he seen his son look so...peaceful. After so many years, with all the magic and trickery that made the name Gleeful universally cursed, having just those gentle moment where they could just sit down and relax, like a normal family. 

Ever since Gideon found that amulet so many years ago, everything changed. Sure it gave the family much fame and success, but the great power corrupted their son horribly, turning him into a monster. If it wasn't for the Pines family, he could still roam the streets with everyone bowing to his feet while blissfully unaware of his cruel actions.

He chuckled upon seeing some crumbs on Gideon's cheek, having clearly missed a few spots with his napkin. Funny considering how prim and proper he tries to be, even in his poor situation. 

As soon as he pulled the key out of the ignition, those sharp blue eyes snapped open, horrifically bloodshot. Bud was taken aback at this; had he even been sleeping?

"So we are..." That was all the tween said as he harshly ripped off his seatbelt and practically leapt out of the car, leaving his father in the dust. He ran into the large mansion that he was happy to consider his home, being sure to keep his hood high up so no passerby could recognize him and alert the police. We wouldn't want that, now would we?

As he ran in the house towards his now-hidden away room, thanks to his dad taking extra precautions to make sure they weren't caught in the act via snooping paparazzi, he bumped into his mother, tripping over the vacuum and falling on his face. 

With a growl, he stood up and turned a harsh glare on the woman who refused to consider herself his mother anymore, who flinched pitifully and stared down at the floor that wouldn't stay clean.

"Watch where you're going, woman..." 

She whimpered and nodded shyly, not bothering to look up from her work even as he stomped away, mumbling under his breath at how worthless she was, or when Bud walked past with a sullen look on his face. The once happy couple exchanged brief glances but said no words and then she was, once again, alone. 

"Just keep vacuuming," she mumbled, shaky, "just keep vacuuming..."

Bud tried not to show any signs of sympathy or even fear as to not anger his power-hungry son, that would be bad indeed, and stood at the child's side like a patient and prim butler. He even opened the door for his little sociopath.

"Did ya get the picture?" 

He nodded, swallowing hard while sweating like a pig, reaching into his pocket and holding out a small framed picture. Gideon smiled like a mad man and ripped it away from his father's meaty damp hands. 

It was a simple little family photo of The Mystery Shack. Dipper and Mabel were embracing, with the latter's arm wrapped around the middle of her precious pig, while Stan was giving them both noogies with a large toothy grin and Ford was resting his head on his shoulder with a tired smirk on his face.

Gideon's blue eyes peered up, staring his father deep in his brown eyes. Bud gulped but he forced a pleasant grin. 

"Whad'bout the employees?" 

Bud's eyes widened and realization and he pulled out two folded up pictures from his shirt pockets, his heads shaking as he handed them in as well while looking away. "Sorry bout that..." He muttered in a disappointed tone.

Gideon snatched them up and unfolded them as well. Ah, Wendy and Soos; the gangs all here. Giggling, he reached into his pocket and in his chubby pale Palm, there was a tiny brown sack.

Staring his father dead in the eye, he smiled the sweetest, kindest, most sincere smile he had in a long time. 

"You done good, daddy. You done good..."

His kind smile quickly turned malicious as he suddenly chucked the small bag right at Bud's face. The middle aged man had no time to duck or even react as the pouch exploded literally before his eyes. Screaming, he thrashed around as the sparkling dust immediately blinded him, clawing at his tear stroked face before he finally passed out, more than likely from the pain. 

Gideon sighed and decided that he had to hurry and get this done before he woke up. Setting the lantern down, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a bright red marker and a crumpled up piece of paper. 

"I know you don't like dark magic, daddy," he sighed as he looked at that dark and familiar symbol against the scribbled words on the old paper, "but I'm desperate."

He drew a large red x over the eyes of Wendy. 

~

Greg wasn't usually the one to have nightmares in his house. Most of the time, he'd sleep peacefully, dreaming of playing in the clouds with the little cloud people. His dreams were fun, unique, and interesting, just like him.

This particular dream, however, was not. 

It was cold, so very cold, and he sat there in his bed, tugging his scratchy sheets closer and closer in a futile attempt for just a little bit of warmth. His large brown eyes were wide and glaring at every moving shadow in the room and he dared not to move a muscle, fearing the dark would consume him again. 

He was too young to understand everything that was going on behind closed doors and even right in front of him. Thinking back, The Unknown was surely a strange place but it was so fun and creative! There was always something new, something even more odd to revel in that he couldn't help but find enjoyment in it all. 

Wirt was a different story however, always looking for an opportunity to run and hide. Greg would sometimes get irritated when his older brother would shoot down every fun thought he had, but that didn't make him love him any less. 

Long spindly branches tapped eagerly at his window and the little boy shuddered, burying his head deeper into his pillow and closing his eyes. Humming a cheery tune to himself, the world around him became more and more dim. 

That is, until a loud pained scream made the house shake.

Greg's head flew off the pillow and he scrambled around on the bed, curling up in a ball and shaking like a leaf. The branches continued to tap against his window more quickly, almost as if they were knocking on a door. 

Staring out into the darkness of the hallway peeking through his cracked open door, he flinched with each pained groan and whimper that echoed throughout the house. Slowly but surely, he slid off his bed and followed the strange noises, dragging his bedsheets behind him as some sort of protection. 

From his glass cage, Jason Funderburker stared at his owner with tired eyes. Greg smiled at him and whispered: "Be right back, you stay here," in the calmest tone he could. The frog stared at him in slight confusion for a minute before he did his best impersonation of a smile and went back to sleep. 

The floor was cold, very very cold, and creaked under each footstep, but Greg pressed on while squinting through the darkness. The cries were getting louder and louder and his eyes widened when he realized not only where they were coming, but who as well.

"W-Wirt?" 

Upon entering the room, he was greeted with the sight of his brother thrashing around in his bed, crying and whimpering. The blinds of his window were open, allowing the moonlight to shine through the small room and casting a pale glow onto Wirt's bundled up form. 

His eyes widened and he races over to his shaking brother, roughly pushing his tiny hands in and out off his side. "Wirt! Wirt! Wake up! Wake up! Come on!" 

The teen's eyes snapped open and he jerked away from the child's touch, which in turn made him jump, and inched towards the edge of the bed. Shadows from the tree branches outside the window ran down his face like long spindly fingers. 

Greg swallowed a lump that was starting to form in his throat and reluctantly crawled onto the bed. Slowly, he scooted closer and closer to his older sibling—who only stared at him with wide hazel eyes—and reached a shaky hand out to try and get his attention. 

"W-Wirt?"

It took a minute for the terrified look in his eyes to change into one of recognition and relief. His tense form relaxed instantly as he stared into the kind eyes of his little brother and he soon went limp, breathing heavily. 

"Oh...G-Greg, it's...it's you..."

The child, sensing that it was okay, scooted closer and gently grabbed Wirt's hand. It was small and slender, not to mention ice cold, but it was all he could think of doing at the moment. 

"Yep. It's me..." 

A moment of silence was all it took, save for the wind howling outside.

"Are you okay?" 

Wirt sat there, eyes glazed over as he tried to control his frantic heart beat. Tucking a strand of dark hair behind his ear, he cleared his throat and avoided his brother's piercing stare.

"Y-yeah I'm...I'm fine..." 

"Are you sure?"

Why is he pressing on?

"Yeah, I'm sure..." 

He could see it in his eyes that Greg didn't really believe him, but sighed anyway upon seeing him nod. 

"Did I wake you?" 

Greg shrugged, a happy smile on his face, "I was already awake." 

"Oh." 

Once again, silence. 

"Wirt?"

Glancing up, the teen was put off by the look of fear on the child's face; his lip was quivering and his eyes were glassy. Was he crying? 

"Y-yes?"

"Can I," Greg paused, looking away for a second before their eyes met again, "can I sleep with you? I...I had a bad dream?" 

I know that feeling...

Wirt's eyes widened and he was quick to nod as she shuffled around to make room for the small kid. "Uh, yeah Greg. Of...of course you can..." 

Greg took up any leftover space he could. It was cramped and full of one patch of cold pale skin after the other, but soon enough they were embracing in a mess of tangled sheets and pillows. Being the taller of the two, Wirt was practical spooning his younger sibling and pressed his nose into his soft brown hair, inhaling gently, while Greg buried his face in his chest. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Greg looked over his brother, watching the shadows coil over and caress his still and lanky form. Something strange was bubbling up in the pit of his stomach but he tried to ignore it to no avail. 

I beat the beast...

I beat the beast...

I beat the beast...

"Greg?"

Snapping out of it, he buried his face in Wirt's chest, listening to the beating of his heart intensively. 

"No."

-

In the darkness of his vision, Gideon saw nothing.

Then there was a flash of yellow and a mocking laugh.

"WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL..."

That night, winter in Gravity Falls became as warm as summer.


	4. Hot Water

Bill Cipher looked around the surrounding area before his large catlike eye finally met the intrigued but still terrified eyes of Gideon Charles Gleeful.

"WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL! IF IT ISN'T MY OLD PAL, HAIR GEL? LONG TIME, NO SEE! REALLY LIKE WHAT YOU'VE DONE WITH THE PLACE! IS THAT A NEW HAIRCUT? HAVE YOU BEEN WORKING OUT? IT LOOKS LIKE YOU'VE BEEN WORKING OUT! YOU LOOK GOOD!" 

Gideon blushed a bit at the flattery but he quickly snapped back to his senses, glaring and holding up the old dirty lantern and the picture. 

"Quit playing dumb, Bill!" He yelled, squinting through the fog that had started to settle throughout the room. "I got you what you wanted! Now you got to live up to your part of the deal!" 

Everything went silent for a moment as the demon and the child stared at each other.

Then Bill started to chuckle which soon turned into howling laughter that shook the room. Gideon's face flashed in confusion and he started to back away from the isosceles eldritch abomination. 

"Wh-what's so funny? Get on with it already!"

Bill paused from his insane laughter, making a motion that resembled wiping a tear from his squinting eye, "OH MY! OH MY! THIS IS RICH! THIS IS GOLD! THIS IS...HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" 

Gideon flinched as he loomed over him, the shadow covering him cold and unforgiving. "What?!? What's so funny?!? Tell me!" 

Bill's eye grew in size, becoming so large that it was super intimidating to the small child. 

"HAIR GEL, WHEN I TOLD YOU TO GO INTO THE UNKNOWN TO GET THE DARK LANTERN, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO STAY IN THE UNKNOWN!" 

Gideon's eyes widened at this and his mouth dropped as the realization sunk in, his shaky hand letting go off the lantern which Bill was quick to snatch up before it broke and the tiny flame extinguished. 

"WHAT?!?" Gideon screamed, his face turning red as his shock turned to anger. "YOU...YOU DIDNT SAY ANYTHING BOUT THAT! HOW WAS I S'POSED TO KNOW THAT?!?" 

Bill giggled at his fury, holding up the lantern with twisted glee as he shrunk down and twirled around the child, circling him like a praying vulture. 

"AW! WHAT'S WRONG HAIR GEL? DID I-" he grew in size, turning bright red with horrifying veins forming in his now giant black and red eye, "-BREAK OUR DEAL?!?

Gideon yelled and held his ears, kneeling down on the ground in pain as he glared at the angered demon through squinted and teary eyes. Bill laughed at this child's misery, a heavy wind swirling around the room that made papers fly all over the place and blew out the ring of candles around the pair. 

"Y-you're still hung up on that?!? That was two years ago!" Gideon yelled through the harsh winds while Bill continued to circle and openly mock him. 

"YOU WOULD KNOW A THING IR TWO ABOUT HOLDING A GRUDGE, RIGHT? YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT BRIDGE YOU BURNED THAT EVENING, AND YET YOU'RE STUPID AND GULLIBLE ENOUGH TO PLACE ALL YOUR TRUST IN SOMEONE THAT YOU BETRAYED?" 

Gideon tried to stand, but he ended up only stumbling back onto his knees. Tears started to stream down his face as Bill's words really started to get to him. He was shaking and breathing heavily, but he still tried to look tough-for his pride wouldn't allow anything otherwise.

"Y-you wouldn't have been able to live up to it anyway! You lost the code! I had no choice! I got my revenge on my own, without any magic or deals! So, basically, I didn't need you at all except as a mere distraction! So ha!" 

Bill stared at him, returning to his normal color palette of yellow, black, and white. There was no emotion shining in that giant eye, which started to slowly narrow. The wind had stopped and there was a moment of complete and utter silence. 

"WELL, WHERE ARE WE NOW?" 

Gideon started to break down into a sweat. He stared down at his tiny hands, one that was still clutching the picture of the x-ed out Wendy. What was he thinking? He dropped to his knees, bowing his head to try and hide the tears of frustration steaming down his pale cheeks. 

"I..." 

Bill flew closer, right in his face as he waved the lantern around mockingly. 

"HUH? HUH? WHAT WAS THAT, HAIR GEL? I COULDN'T HEAR YOU! WILL YOU SPEAK UP A LITTLE BIT!" 

Gideon turned his head, not wanting to look at the demon in the eye. 

"I...I don't know..." 

If Bill had a mouth, he would have a huge terrifying grin on his smug face. 

"THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT!" 

Gideon sniffled, wiping his tears and snot away with his tattered sleeve. He looked at Bill, the light framing the demon as if he was a god. Standing up, he tried to contain his emotions as he took a cautious step forward. 

"W-what do I do then? I can't get mah daddy to drive me all the way back to that dang graveyard again!" 

Bill started to chuckle again and Gideon flinched in fear of the trick he may have up his sleeve. 

"HAIR GEL," Bill chuckled, his tone that of a gentle whisper, "WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT A GRAVEYARD?" 

Gideon stared at him, his eyes widening. 

"What?"

Bill snapped his fingers. 

The floor beneath Gideon began to twist and morph before suddenly getting very, very soggy. The child squeaked and tried to grab at the wall, in an attempt to get out of the thick brown ocean that was once his bedroom floor. He managed to grab onto a coat hanger pinned to his door and watched in horror as the flood consumed everything that was on the floor: the blown out candles, his bed and dresser, the picture of the Pines family, everything. Bill laughed hysterically, throwing his head back and howling like a maniac. No, no; not like a maniac, he was a maniac. 

Gideon tried to hold on to the coat hanger as hard as he could, watching with fear as the murky water inched upwards more and more. Tears of fear were streaming down his face and he was muttering prayers to himself that he wouldn't die like this. 

Bill stopped cackling when he saw the dark water begin to swallow up the child's chubby, kicking legs, his eye squinted smugly as Gideon screamed and cried. 

"DO YOU LIKE IT, HAIR GEL? GOOD HARD KARMA?" 

The water was up to his waist by now. Gideon stared into that eye, his breathing heavy and his grip on the hanger started to slack. 

"Karma..." He rasped out, closing his eyes. 

He let go.   
-  
Gideon awoke with a heavy jerk, gasping and sputtering into the shallow pond he was suddenly lying in. Looking up, he stared at Bill, who was sitting on the hard and dirty ground, staring at the dim lit lantern. 

Bill turned and floated up to him, offering him a hand up.

"WELCOME BACK TO THE UNKNOWN, KID." 

Gideon was reluctant at first, but he shakily gripped the hand offered to him anyway. It took a moment to adjust, but he was soon on his own two feet and climbed out of the pond. He shook his wet clothes and hair in disgust, but he soon focused his attention on the lantern just sitting there on the ground. 

"What now?" 

There was shuffling in the forest beyond them and Gideon nearly jumped out of his skin. Bill looked as if he was smiling and looped an arm around those small shoulders, pulling to child down on the dirty ground in a sitting position with a pitiful squeak. A cloud of dust formed around them at this, but only Gideon coughed harshly. 

"THIS..." 

Gideon stared out into the forest, his eyes widening when he finally noticing the silhouette moving and twisting around in the darkness. It resembled a man, hunched over and limping, but there were two large horn jutting out of his head, as if he stuck two very large tree branches into his skull. 

There was heavy, raspy breathing emitting from the forest and Gideon couldn't help but cringe at how pained it sounded. 

Then, two bright white eyes opened and stared at the two. 

Bill leaned back and relaxed while Gideon went pale and shook like a frightened cat. 

"You must be Gideon," the voice was deep, insanely deep, yet still sounded that he was very out of breath and raspy. 

Gideon stared in both horror and awe as the figure began to wonder closer and closer to them, a sudden gust of wind blowing bright autumn leaves around, as well as the apparent tattered cape The Beast was wearing. Him and Bill exchanged glances before his beautiful eyes settled on the shocked child yet again.

"Bill's told me so much about you..."


	5. To Kindergarten

"Give me my lantern."

"You're lantern?"

The bluebird flying by the boy's shoulder shot him a glare. "No way! We need this thing!" 

"Yeah, I'm keeping this!" The boy yelled pitifully, tugging to light closer to him and squinting through the harsh brightness. Looking close, the monster noticed he was still shivering from the cold. Truly a frightened child was before him, trying to be brave and yet still cowering in the dark. 

"I have to get Greg home!" 

He briefly glanced over at the child ensnared in the thick, twisted branches. There were noticeable dark circles under his eyes, even darker then his dear brother's, and his normally rosy complexion was pure white as the snow that covered the sullen ground. He was not yet rooted, but he was losing hope. As the light in the small, rusted object grew brighter, it became more and more apparent that the child was dying. 

"Your brother is too weak to go home," He spoke in a gentle purr, keeping his eyes looked on the boy, "he will soon become part of my forest..."

"I won't let that happen!" Tears were brimming in the boy's eyes, giving them a glassy shine. He was weak and tired—gradually losing the little hope he had left—and he was vulnerable. Moldable. 

If The Woodsman wouldn't cut down one little tree, maybe he could instead. 

"Well then, perhaps we better make a deal..."

The boy's eyes were locked on his, wide and riddled with such innocent confusion. 

"A deal?"

The Woodsman, lying pathetically on the ground with his axe lying only a few feet out of reach, opens his eyes upon hearing this. He wants to move, to protect these children from the monster that's haunted him for so long, but he can't. Instead, he stares pleadingly at the boy. He was too young to carry this burden, far too young to experience the horrors that this sick beast would bring on. 

Yet, he could see that look in the boy's eyes. It was the very same look he had on his face all those years ago: enchantment. 

"No..." His voice was in a pitiful whisper, hoarse from a tightening throat. 

The Beast ignores the old man, reaching out towards the boy with an outstretched hand. They were too far away to actually touch, but the boy still shivered upon feeling what felt like long, sharp nails lightly brush against his cheek. 

"I can put his spirit in the lantern," his lips curl in a smile when he sees the boy glacé at the lantern, staring into the bright light. It was working. 

"As long as the flame stays lit, he will live on inside. Take on the task of lantern-bearer or watch your brother perish?" 

He allowed the boy to take a moment to reflect on this. His youthful face twisted into various expressions of confusion, uncertainly, conflict, and, best of all, surrender. The air was getting colder and colder as hope withered away. He was winning and all he needed was the correct answer. He stared at the boy, watching as their eyes met and locked. 

"Come here." 

The boy's shoulder sagged in defeat and he sighed, bowing his head and stepping forward so obediently. The bird was right after all—he was a people-pleaser. 

"Okay..."

The bluebird gasped at this, eyes wide as she watches him retreat further and further into the darkness, away from her, The Woodsman, and Greg. She glanced over and for a brief moment, she was staring into the enticing eyes of The Beast she had feared for so long—watching helplessly as he was taking away the two friends she had made in such a long time right before her eyes. 

"Wirt!"

The boy was standing in front of him now, silent and waiting for the next command. With a nod and a smile, The Beast watched as the boy quietly bent over to place the glowing lantern on the cold, hard ground. 

Little did he know, this certain boy was no fool. Pretentious he may be, but he was not so easily manipulated by beautiful eyes and empty promises. As soon as he looked away, a little bell ringing replaced the happy and cheerful giggles of Greg emitting from the lantern, and he suddenly remembered all the warnings the tavern-people sang just a couple of nights ago. 

"Ooo, better beware!

Ooo, the beast is out there!

Ooo, better be wise and don't believe his lies!"

Lies?

Lies!

Lies...

He took a step back, immediately clutching the lantern back to his chest again. The Beast looked momentarily confused before it quickly turned to one of desperation. 

"Wait...that's dumb!"

"What?"

"That's dumb, I'm not just gonna wander around in the woods for the rest of my life," the boy explained matter-o-factly, with a squinting eye and his bluebird friend letting out a soft sigh of relief that he was back to his smartass self. 

The Beast ground his teeth together and his skeletal hands shook, then tightened into sharp fists. This wasn't supposed to happen! How was this happening? He had watched this boy for almost an entire week, watching him be a good, obedient, sarcastic yet scared poetry-rambling child! So why was it now, now of all times, he applied logic to such a dire situation?

"I'm trying to help you!" He growled, his eyes narrowing sharply.

The boy's eyes narrowed as well, mirroring him quite well, while gripping the lantern so tightly. 

"You're not trying to help me! You just have this weird obsession with keeping this lantern lit! It's almost like—" little bells rung in his head, chiming louder and louder "—your soul is in this lantern!"

That had done it. 

The Woodsman and the bird gasped, but with a wave of the hand, they were gone and it was just the two of them in complete silence. The ringing bells had even stopped and the forest shrunk to its knees when The Beast let out a furious roar, coming closer and closer to the boy who cowered so. 

It was just them in the dark; nothing could intervene now, not even that stupid little boy, Gregory, who willingly decided to give his life for this frozen in place scum that he called his big brother. 

He now towered over the boy, reaching out for both the lantern and his skinny little neck, watching with wide eyes as the boy hugged the light closer to his lithe body, the fear evident in his face. 

"ARE YOU READY TO SEE TRUE DARKNESS?"

The boy stayed frozen in place, but soon his expression of fear began to morph, at first just simply going slack before turning into one of either anger or determination. Hazel eyes narrowed sharply and his lips press together in a firm line, the bells were ringing louder than ever. 

A challenge, he dares, so The Beast watches with curiosity, hoping he'd look into his eyes and make the wrong and fatal move.

"Are you—" the boy's voice cracks noticeably and he pauses to cough into his hand.

The Beast still watches, trying to somehow get into his head. 

The boy undos the lattice, exposing more of the light shining so brightly even in the dark. The Beast's eyes suddenly grow huge as realization dawned on him. 

The boy was staring him dead in the eye this time, shadows framing his face in all the right ways.

"Are you?"

He takes a deep breath and pulls the lantern close to his threatening lips. 

The Beast is the one shaking like a leaf now and, in a moment of pure desperation, reaches out in a plea, unknowingly removing the darkness that danced around the pair. 

"D-DON'T! WAIT! DON'T!"

The boy closes the lattice, pulls the lantern away from his lips that curl into a smug little smirk. 

"Pfft..." He scoffs sarcastically. 

The Beast couldn't think of anything to say or do—what could he do after all of that other hand stand slack-jawed as the boy turned his back on him mockingly? After al, these years, after ages of wandering around and leading lost souls to their doom, he, the fearful Beast everyone is so afraid of, was beaten by a fourteen year old and common sense! That doesn't make any sense! How? Why? How could he be so foolish? This was does a child, a stupid little child! He has twisted so many of them around before, so why was this any different? 

Suddenly, a spark of hope came when the boy foolishly handed The Woodsman the lantern. "Here Woodsman," he said, empathy all but gleaming in his eyes, "I've got my own problems to deal with. This one's yours..." 

The old fool stared down at the old, rusted object he had cared so much for in his old age. His expression was heartbreaking as he realized that everything the boy said had a dire point and that The Beast, the creature that had ordered him around like a servant for all those years, was just force feeding him lie after another lie. 

But then...his daughter...

The Beast never wasted a perfect opportunity when it was right in front of him.

Keeping a close eye on the boy, he watched as he knelt down and grabbed the discarded and dirt covered axe. "My brother and I are going home," he said, not turning to even exchange a glance at either of the two. 

The Woodsman turned and gave him a pleading look with teary eyes.

"She was never in the lantern, was she Beast?"

The Beast leered over them, staring him dead in the eye. There's no avoiding it now, he's been caught red handed and skating around the truth would get him even more buried. 

"Listen Woodsman," he leaned close to whisper in his ear, noticing how the old man flinched, "listen to me..."

The boy swung the axe, cutting the wood that surrounded the child, but was careful not the harm the weak creature himself. The bluebird sat, perched on one of the few twisted branches protruding from the dirt. With a soft huff, the boy had the child resting against his back and had his freezing frog tucked under his arm. 

He turned to face the bluebird, a soft smile on his face.

"Wirt—"

"Come with us." 

"I..." She looked dejected, heaving a sigh.

"I have to go home too. Admit to my family it's my fault they're bluebirds..." 

The boy clears his throat and reaches into his pocket, retrieving a pair of shining amber scissors with a beautiful bird design. Her eyes widened at this and she practically leaps off the branch in shock.

"Here."

"What?" 

"The scissors that'll make you and your family human again."

"You had them all along?" She sounds extremely irritated at this, almost as if she was going to slap him if her arms weren't fragile little bird wings. 

"Well, I used them to escape Adelaide and...y-yeah, I was sort of mad at you..."

"Why you wonderful mistake of nature!" She cried happily, lunging forward and wrapping her wings around his cheek in an awkward hug. He looked a little surprised for a moment, but kindly returns the favor with a smile. 

What a sweet sight. 

How sickening. 

The boy began to retreat into the darkness yet again, this time leading out of The Beast's reach. Not good, not good, not good. He needed to work quickly before they were gone forever. 

"You see, Woodsman? All that perish here will become trees for the lantern," he eyes the now abandoned axe lying on the ground all lonely, "cut them down with your axe! Go! NOW!"

The Woodsman's jawline tightened and he eyes the nasty creature literally breathing down his neck. He suddenly spins around, shaking as the bright light shine over The Beast, showing his true form, which made the vile being cringe noticeably. 

The boy had the unfortunate honor of briefly glancing over his shoulder at the commotion, now forever haunted by the sight of the being made of a thousand screaming trees. He took off in a sprint at this, eyes wide, as he struggled to hold on to the child and frog and the bird flew alongside him with a sympathetic look in the eyes. 

The Woodsman yanks the latch open, tears brimming in his eyes, and stares down the creature that had tricked him so many times for so many years. This lantern was his burden and he was going to end it. 

The Beast's eyes grew as wide as dinner plates and he jerked closer, reaching for the lantern—his lantern. 

"STOP! You'll never see your daughter again, Woodsman! Are you really ready to go back to that empty house?"

He saw him close his eyes and the tears that began to flow down his pale cheeks. He smiled, his fingertips just lightly brushing against the handle. He was almost there, he's almost won...

Suddenly, The Woodsman jerks the lantern away and holds it up to his lips, tears still in his eyes but this time, he had a face of pure bitterness. He was done. 

The Beast grabbed for the lantern. 

"NO! WOODSMAN! DON'T!"

Then there was nothing but darkness. 

The Beast felt as if his body was being torn apart piece by piece and he screamed, falling to his knees, although nobody could hear him. His body was quickly withering away, tearing off into little bits like crumpled up leaves floating away in the wind. 

He couldn't move. 

He couldn't fight. 

He couldn't even cry. 

All he could do was scream and scream and scream.

He heard everything that was happening around him. 

The snipping of what sounded like thin cloth. 

The Woodsman's hysteric sobbing. 

The sloshing the water of the lake as the boy stepped into it. 

The final embrace. 

"Goodbye Beatrice."

"Goodbye Wirt." 

The only victim to escape him, the only one. 

Then there was another voice. 

After that, there was a faint glowing in the darkness. 

Bright yellow. 

"WELL, WELL, WELL," that cocky and all too familiar voice that got under his bones cooed in mock sympathy, "IF IT ISN'T MY OLD PAL, TOPIARY?"

-

"So that's how ya'll got this deal started?"

Bill grinned, or at least that's what he would be doing if he had a mouth, and wrapped a skinny black arm around the pale, shriveled form that was The Beast. He was currently leaning against a sturdy tree for support, trying to stand straight with wobbling knees and hunching over, and he most certainly didn't seem to respond all that positively to being touched in such an affectionate manner, as his eyes sharply narrowed immediately at physical contact. 

"YEP!" The isosceles demon cheerfully announced, ignoring his frienemy's death stare directed his way. "THIS GUY WAS DESPERATE TO LIVE, SO I JUST GAVE HIM A SIMPLE PROPOSITION: GIVE ME ENOUGH ENERGY TO ENTER THE PHYSICAL REALM AND I'LL HELP HIM OUT WITH HIS LITTLE NIGHTLIGHT SOUL PROBLEM!" 

"Yes, that was what we planned," the tree monster growled, rudely shoving Bill away from him and crossing his arms over his chest. He was practically skin and bones and the sight wasn't pretty. 

"But William ended up causing too many complications in a relatively simple deal." 

"HEY! NO DEAL EVER MADE WITH ME IS JUST 'SIMPLE', TOPIARY!" 

Gideon rolled his eyes. Only the great and powerful Bill Cipher would be offended by something like that. "What kind of complications?"

The Beast sighed and placed a hand against one of his bony hips. "Well, for one thing: he didn't restore me to my full form, leaving very little of my soul left—"

"HEY, YOU SHOULD BE THANKFUL I GOT YOU THIS FAR!" 

"—so I have very little of my powers left, so I can't fulfill my end of the bargain until I get souls. Lost souls need to be fed to the lantern to get my strength back and that, Gideon Gleeful, is where you come in..."

Upon hearing those words, the fair haired child began to break out into a cold sweat. He was already nervous enough when facing this demon alone, he did not really want to know where this was particularly going. He nervously glanced behind him and then back at The Beast and Bill with a fake and sweaty happy smile.

The pond he came from was only a few steps away. He could run. He could leave. He could blow out the candles, tear up the pictures, throw away the journal page, go to sleep and try to forget any of this ever happened in the first place. 

But he was in hot water and sinking fast. It wouldn't matter if he ran, Bill or whoever else he might offend by that action would find him and drag him down yet again to fulfill his deadly promise. He knew that this was risky, but he didn't care. He did now, but he was already trapped in this circle of madness.

"W-w-wha," he swallowed, nervously wringing his soft and sweaty hands, "what d-do ya mean b-by that-t?"

The Beast let out a low and throaty chuckle at the child's fear while Bill burst out laughing. Gideon felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment at this but as much as he tried to avoid the former's piercing gaze, he couldn't help but stare. 

"GEEZ KID! RELAX! WE'RE NOT GONNA KILL YOU! WE NEED YOU!" 

He watched The Beast close his eyes and nod. 

"He's right, child. Bill's told me how much you want to be restored to your former glory, much like me, so that got us both thinking. I need a new lantern–bearer to chop the trees..." 

"AND I NEED A VESSEL TO ENTER THE PHYSICAL REALM..." 

"So we can all get what we want..." 

"I GET MORE POWER..."

"While I get my strength back..." 

Everything was clicking together now.

"So, that means...if I help ya'll out then I will...?" 

"Get what you desire most."

Gideon's eyes grew wide. His knees went weak and his heart was practically going to burst from his meaty chest. 

"That means...my powers? My fame? Mabel? Anything?" 

Bill and The Beast exchanged glances and met his bewildered expression with supposed smiles and nods. 

"Anything." 

"EVERYTHING."

The temptation was strong. It was an offer to good to be true, and deep down inside he knew it probably wasn't, but he just didn't care. He was a dog now, doing playful tricks to get the treat being dangled in front of his face. The treat was just within his grasp and—screw common sense—he was gonna try with all his might to get a good taste of it!

"...What do ya'll want me to do?"

Their pleasured smiles widened gracefully at this and The Beast moved his arm, holding something up that gleamed in the dim light of the lantern. It was only when the object was thrown at him, just barely missing getting him in the feet. 

"What the?" He jumped, just narrowing avoiding the axe sticking out of the ground.

"You are to be my new lantern-bearer," The Beast explained, "you are to carry and feed my lantern, luring lost souls here and chopping down the trees. The person Bill had you choose to sacrifice will be the first soul you'll lead here."

Gideon reached into his pocket, unfolding the now crumpled up picture of Wendy with the bright red x over her eyes. His brow furrowed in confusion at this. 

"But how will that work? She lives in Gravity Falls! Not here!"

The Beast and Bill began chuckling amongst themselves, the latter wrapping around the former's shoulders, who seemed to be unaware at this action.

"Child, I need lost souls. Those who are already in The Unknown aren't lost–why else do you think I don't go after them? I need someone to rule over after all." 

"Excuse me, 'rule'?"

"YOU WILL BRING THEM HERE WITH MY HELP! ALL I NEED IS A VESSEL!"

Gideon pondered over this for a second and then looked up at The Beast. 

"So...that's all I need to do? Bring random people here, chop down some trees, and oil up your lantern?"

"Yes."

He turned and looked over at Bill.

"And you only need me as a way to come through?" 

"YEP!" 

"You won't try to do anything to physically hurt me? Either of you two?"

"OF COURSE, HAIR GEL! WE'RE ALL FRIENDS, AREN'T WE?" 

"I would never dare to harm the person who'd willingly take my soul as his burden." 

"If I go through with this, you'll get me my powers back?" 

"A deal's a deal, Gleeful..."

Bill and The Beast both held out a hand towards them. The former' spurned with electric blue fire while the latter's glowed like the very light that kept him alive.

"WHATDOYA SAY, KID?" 

"Do we have a deal?"

Gideon stared down at both of his empty, pale, free hands in thought.

-

The snow was beginning to melt. 

Good. He was tired of constantly trying to avoid slipping on ice and having to be caught every step he took. 

Sara sighed as she glanced out the window, tapping her fingers on the table in thought. The whipped cream that was once on the top of her steaming mug had already melted into the warm milky chocolate. 

Wirt felt his cheeks heat up when he found himself staring, so he decided to distract himself by taking a few sips of his cooling hot chocolate. Thankfully, none of his friends seemed to notice as well, or if they at least did, they were nice enough to spare him from all their usual teasing.

Kathleen was listening to music. Greg was eagerly filling out a coloring book. Rhonda was playing with one of those addictive games on her phone and was getting really into it. Funderberker was leaning against him, despite Wirt constantly telling him about personal space, and babbling on and on about a girl he met that would most likely stand him up on the date as usual. Sara was...perfect.

"This is ridiculous," she sighs, taking another one of the complimentary breadsticks from the basket. 

"What?" He asked stupidly before he could stop himself. 

She split the breadstick into two and began to dip one of the ends into the garlic sauce she got on the side. 

"All this snow. I mean, I fine with, like, a week or two of snow in February or something like that, but it's mid-April! We need sun and flowers, not icicles and fog!"

Wirt chuckled and brushed a few strands of hair out of his eyes. "I can see what you mean. I'm really tired of having to put on three layers of clothes just to go to the supermarket."

She smiled at him softly while chewing on a breadstick. He blushed and stared out to window to try and hide it. The world was coated in fresh snow, making the town look even more beautiful than before. A part of him wondered if their town was stuck in eternal winter like in that Disney movie, but the logical side of him scolded that idea. 

Suddenly he saw something odd in the background. 

Bright ugly eyes and a face made of a thousand screams. 

He felt his stomach drop and all the color drain from his face. 

"Uh...Wirt? Are you okay?" 

He turned and tried to hide his nervousness, but it was still apparent that something was wrong. 

"Y-yeah! I'm...I'm f-fine! Why do you ask?" He cringed upon realizing how pitchy his own voice sounded.

Sara gave him a concerned look. 

"It's just...you look a little pale."

Wirt coughed into his hand and chuckled. Rhonda and Kathleen looked up from their phones, Jason stopped his babbling, and Greg paused from coloring, having finally noticed how distressed he looked. 

"I'm fine, guys! Honestly! It's just...just...I'm a little nervous, alright?"

It was evident in their expressions, except for Greg of course, that none of them believed him, but they nodded anyway. 

"Is it about the spring recital?" Sara guessed, offering a small kind smile.

Wirt mentally slapped himself. The recital! He completely forgot to practice! He preferred blaming it on Greg for forcing him to play in the snow at every opportunity but deep down, he knew it was all his fault for getting distracted in the first place.

"Uhh...yeah..." He lied right through his teeth.

Kathleen roughly patted him on the knee, making him flinch sharply at the touch, and then decided that wasn't enough, so she also ruffled his already messy hair. 

"Aw! Don't be nervous, little worry wort! It's not like forgetting a few notes on whatever the heck you play will ruin your life anyway!" 

Wirt sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes Kathleen, because failing to get a few notes right on my solo performance in front of the entire school is just a brush on the shoulder. As if the clarinet isn't ridiculed enough as it is..."

Sara chuckled softly and handed him the other end of her breadstick. He was slightly taken aback at the kind gesture, but he took it anyway because his empty stomach was now taking control of his mind.

"Trust me, Wirt, I know how you feel," she sighed, combing her slender hand through her hair.

"I have to do solo performances all the time in my dance recitals. You just gotta breathe, have confidence, and then remember that there are people out there that are watching you, loving you, and will still love you even if you mess up."

"I bet you know a whole lot about that last part, right Wirt?" Kathleen winked, lightly nudging him in the arm. The teen felt his face burn red and he tried to ignore it by taking a bite out of his half of her breadstick. 

Now she decided was the time to tease him?

Sara chuckled, taking a sip of her hot chocolate.

"Give him a break, Kath. We've been doing this since kindergarten and Wirt?"

He looked up at her, his hand holding the mug shaking noticeably hard. 

"Don't worry about your performance too much. You're amazing, you've always been amazing, and you'll be even more amazing on Friday."

The rest of the table instantly agreed with her and Wirt couldn't stop his heart from pounding in his chest at the praise. 

"Y-you said that s-since kindergarten..." He stuttered, staring down at his lap in order to look less stupid. 

Sara's eyes were warm and welcoming and her smiles just as much. 

"Well then..." 

She held up her mug. 

"To kindergarten!" 

The entire table burst out into a flurries of chuckles and happiness as they clinked their mugs together, talking long sips of their drinks and becoming much more talkative with one another than they were only a few minutes ago.

Wirt even surprised himself when he practically scarfed down his end of the breadstick and reached into the basket to grab at least three more. He was hungrier then he previously thought and that actually did worry him a bit.

It was when, after a minute of casual chatting and eating breadstick after breadstick, he finally looked up at Sara after a while that this moment of happiness immediately turned bleak.

Her beautiful face turned ugly, with thorns messily poking out of her cheeks and head with dark, thick oil running down her face. Her eyes were the ugliest yet most intriguingly beautiful part of all. 

If that wasn't enough, her voice was even different. 

"You asinine children will never escape me, Walter. I am eternal..."

He immediately got sick to his stomach and was quick to get up from his seat and rush to the restroom before he made a mess of himself in public. Racing into the closets stall he saw, he fumbled with the lock, dropped to his knees, closed his blurry eyes and vomited until his lungs nearly fell out. 

It took a five good minutes for him to get everything out, including at good amount of sweat and pained tears. Even after he was done, he still decided to sit on the floor for a few more minutes and cry softly to himself. He curled up into a ball on the cold, sticky tiled floor and cried. 

Three minutes later, he noticed a pair of neatly tied black sneakers appearing under the stall and tried to quiet his sniffling, already trying to wipe away the obnoxious amount of watery snot coming out of his nose.

There was a loud knock on the door. 

"Hey W-Wirt?" Ugh, Funderberker.

He buried his face in his hands. Oh god, this was embarrassing. Why him? Why now?

"Wirt, are you i-in there?"

He felt his face heat up even more when he heard the dweeb yell very, very loudly, "He's not coming out guys!" 

"Wirt! You better come out before we have to get the fire department to tear apart the stall you're in!" Kathleen. 

"You okay, dude?" Rhondi.

"Are you sick? Do you need any help?" Sara. 

"What's going on? What's wrong with Wirt?" Greg.

"Why don't you go in there and ask him?" Oh god no...

He couldn't stop himself, hurriedly getting to his feet before Greg dragged him out from under the stall. The kid may be only seven but he had the strength of a chimpanzee and was not afraid to use it in a situation like this; that happening would only add more to his "most embarrassing things to happen around Sara" list. 

"I-it's alright g-guys!" He called out once he saw a smaller pair of feet join Funderberker's outside. "I'm coming! I'm coming!" 

He undid the lock and swung the stall open, not worrying if he hit Funderberker or not, and ran over to a sink. He looked horrible, his face ghastly and tear-streaked with his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with black. With a frustrated growl, he splashed handfuls of cold water on his face, lightly dabbed it with a scratchy paper towel, wiped any excess bile or snot of his face, and ran outside without a word. 

Hopefully they wouldn't notice.

"Oh my god, you look terrible!"

They noticed.

With a loud groan, he rubbed his arms and shivered. It suddenly got really, really cold, even with his excess layers. 

"Thanks Kathleen, I feel so appreciated..." He said with a eye roll. 

Sara gave him a sympathetic look and placed a warm hand on his shoulder, making him flinch at the touch. 

"Don't listen to her, Wirt," she smiled softly, "...are you okay?"

He shrug off her touch, trudging back to the now empty table. "I'm fine," he muttered, slumping down in his seat and gnawing on the breadstick he was eating before the incident as if nothing had even happened. 

The group and Greg exchanged confused and worried glances before cautiously walking back over to the table. They watched him eat in silence, hesitant to say anything at first. 

Sara sat down first. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" 

He smiled but he wouldn't look at her. 

"Yeah...yeah, I'm fine. Just got a little sick, that's all. Must be that bug going around..."

She wasn't convinced. 

"Wirt—"

"Sara...I'm fine. Everything's fine. Will you believe me for once? Please?" 

He ate more and more, trying to distract himself from that being scared at that ugly silhouette watching him from across the street.

But as he sat there, binge eating, his friends and little brother knew better.

Everything was not fine.


	6. Red 'X'

Wirt let out another undignified squeak when he once again slipped on another patch of black ice, the world rocketing upwards as he felt himself falling backwards only to be grabbed by the wrists by his friends, thankfully stopping him from hitting his head on the hard ground.

"Whoa there, bud," Kathleen chuckled as she held him by the arm with Sara, smiling when she saw his cheeks brighten up nice and red. Funderberker and Rhondi held his other arm and had noticeably blank expressions on their faces.

"Yeah yeah, soo funny. Can you guys help me up? I can't feel my arms..." 

"Of course," Sara giggled and the group walked backwards while holding his limbs, pulling him upwards onto his feet and away from the shining concrete he had slipped on in the first place.

"Thanks," he mumbled, staring down at his shoes to hide his blush. The girls of the group smiled against themselves while Funderberker got a little too close for comfort. The boy flinched noticeably when he felt the other kid pat him lightly on the back.

"You know, we wouldn't have to keep rescuing you if you paid attention to what you're doing for once," Kathleen stated, placing one hand on her hip and the other tucking strands of her hair behind her ear. Sara lightly nudged her in the ribs and gave Wirt a sympathetic look with a small smile.

"Kath, stop it. Are you okay?"

"Yeah yeah, sure..." He mumbles, rubbing at his sore and stretched out limbs. "Just a little sore by now. This ice is ridiculous."

Sara chuckles, a sound so beautiful it compares to chiming bells, and Wirt finds his face heating up so much he didn't even feel the cold anymore. Nervously wringing his hands, he stares down at the ground and smiles softly at her. 

"Well don't worry, Wirt. We'll be there to catch you if you fall again." She said with a cute little smile the lit up the whole world in his eyes.

"So we'll basically have to be with you every single moment of the day," Kathleen joked, her eyebrow arching up when she saw Wirt's embarrassed flush. He glared at her and huffed while crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm not that clumsy," he grumbled, his face as red as a tomato.

"Yes you are," was the response he got in unison. With a sigh, he stepped over another patch of black ice that was clearly trying to make him break his neck or something like that and realized, to his dismay, that his left shoe had become untied—again.

"H-hold on guys, I got to tie my shoes..." He shivered when a sudden breeze swept through the street, adding another thin layer of ice to his cheeks. This late-winter was getting ridiculous by now, it was nearing spring and the flowers were even starting to bloom despite the snow. It may be a beautiful sight, but beauty comes at a price.

"Ugh. Hurry up then; I want to get there before the line gets too long," Kathleen grumbled, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder. 

"Calm down, you'll get your mango slushy whenever or not we get there early," Rhondi giggled, rubbing her velvet gloved hands together. Funderberker nodded, biting the inside of his cheek with a somewhat rosy flush on his pale face.

Wirt stood back up, crossing his arms and huffing softly, marveled at the icy cloud that blew past his lips. Sometimes he couldn't help but wonder how in the world he actually became friends with these funny, popular, and charming people considering he himself wasn't much, but then again, they were also pretty nice people who probably took pity on him after his parents' divorce.

Yeah, that sounds about right...after all, who would find him special?

He could only think of one person—or well, thing—and that was a sour lemon in his tea he did not want to drink.

"W-well," another sudden breeze sent chills down his spine, "l-let's go." He flashes them a fake smile and stared down at the ground while he silently took the lead, brushing past them. Rhondi and Funderberker happily followed, chatting amongst themselves, while Kathleen and Sara lagged behind with looks of both concern and pity on their faces. 

"I don't think he's 'fine' Kath. He's too...quiet," Sara whispered, feeling a tightening sensation in her chest. She's always liked Wirt, why wouldn't she? They were best friends! She helped him get through his parents' divorce, babysat Greg with him, and was always there to give him advice when he was unsure of something! So why was he all of a sudden acting so...differently?

"Something happened to him on Halloween. I can tell."

"Same," the blonde nods, her eyes squinting sharply as they watch his retreating, slightly hunched over figure. "He looks a lot thinner than usual too."

"I don't think he's been eating a lot. I mean, you did see how much he ate the other day at the coffee shop? I almost thought he was going to choke."

"Yeah. He's also getting sick a lot."

Sara paused, a thought suddenly popping up in her head.

"Have you talked with his parents recently?"

"No. Why?"

What they failed to notice was the shadowy figure watching them in the distance as they talked, large bright eyes glowing so, so brightly narrowing sharply and the thin yet large gnarled hands tightening into fists. 

-

"Ugh. Why do people go nuts over movies like this? Nothing was happening!"

"I know right! It was like 'blah, blah, blah, talking, talking, talking, make-out session, blah, blah, blah, pointless conflict, werewolves, blah blah, blah..."

"Rob, tell me, why did you pick 'Werewolf Romance In Werewolf Forest' instead of 'Mad Pecks: Greasy Trucks' like we agreed?"

The teen sighed in annoyance and looked up at Nate with a pitiful look on his face. "Look man, I'm sorry! Believe me, I wanted to, but Tambry was like 'oh, it's a month before my birthday! We gotta do something special and romantic and GAWK!"

The four males: Robbie, Lee, Nate, and Thompson, sat in the old rusty blue pickup truck, waiting for their female companions to do their usual business, while being parked outside an old grimy gas station. They had just gone (and by 'just gone' they really mean that they were dragged along, believing they were seeing an action movie with monster trucks and explosions when in actuality Robbie just didn't want to be alone with a bunch of chicks) to see a chick flick and decided to lighten to mood by a drive home game of truth and dare.

Lee and Nate dared Wendy to drink the entire bottle of expired cider they found on the side of the road without stopping or upchucking once. She succeeded...only for her face to turn a disturbing shade of green a few minutes afterwards and forcing them to stop at the nearest gas station. Tambry went in too, most likely to relieve herself from all the sodas and popcorn she consumed throughout the three hour chick flick.

"I still can't believe she drank that entire bottle! I mean, she could at least smell how badly that was right?" Thompson shuddered thinking about that, he owed her one big time—they originally dared him to do it but Wendy took his place instead, claiming that she's always wanted to do something like it and that he wouldn't last the first sip. She was right of course, but it still kind of hurt at how weak he really was compared to his much more daring group of friends.

"You should have seen this coming, dude. I mean, she is a Corduroy—her father's the biggest risk-taker in town, so why shouldn't she continue the legacy?"

"Yeah man, you're right."

They were startled by a knock on the door, too dark to tell who it was due to the dimly lit station providing little light. Robbie switched on the little overhead light, making all of them relieved to see the reflection on Tambry and Wendy in the window as opposed to...I don't know, the Zodiac killer?

"Oh, thank god it's just you two," Robbie sighed as he rolled down the window, flinching slightly at his girlfriend's annoyed glare.

"Well, who did you expect? The Zodiac killer?" Rolling his eyes, his look suddenly changing from one of annoyance to despair upon noticing Wendy, propped up so that she was leaning on her shoulder with an arm coiled around her waist, pale and unconscious. 

"What the heck happened to her?"

"The cider," Tambry grumbled as she lightly shoved her into the backseat before climbing in herself, "she was puking and then passed out on the floor. I think she's a little...you know, tipsy..."

"That doesn't look like just 'tipsy', Tam."

"Uhh guys?" Lee yelled as he pressed two fingers against her neck with a panicked look on his face. "I don't think she's breathing!"

"WHAT?" 

"Oh my gosh!" Thompson cried out, his face growing pale. "We if we gave her...al-al-al-alcohol poisoning?"

The group took a moment to take this into consideration, taking in her cold, pale, almost dead looking form. It was a very well-possibility there was something in that cider that would have some kind of negative effect on her but this? Poisoning? Unless that stuff was mixed with cyanide, it can't be that bad...right?

"Did you happen to see how expired that cider was?"

"I don't know man!" Lee broke out in a sweat while Nate shrunk in the front seat, deadly quiet. They were the ones who found the bottle in the first place, and therefore were the most guilty if anything happened to her.

"Well what do we do now!" Robbie found himself panicking with the rest of group, his heart practically beating out of his chest and his shaky hands soaking with a thin layer of sweat while grasping the wheel.

"What do you think you idiot? DRIVE!" Tambry screamed and Robbie's foot slammed down on the gas pedal, making the truck jerk seat with the staton with such force, they jolted back in their seats, all with looks of pure terror and shock. 

Wendy was growing paler and paler, to the point where they could literally see her blue and red veins glowing in the dark. Lee was trying to give her CPR, to no avail. Soon enough, in less than a minute, the entire group erupted into a screaming, panicking, crying undistinguishable mess.

"DUDE, I CAN'T FEEL HER PULSE!"

"WHERE ARE WE GOING!"

"TO THE HOSPITAL! WHERE ELSE?"

"IS SHE GOING TO DIE?!?"

"I DONT KNOW, MAN! LET ME THINK!"

"ARE YOU EVEN WATCHING WHERE YOU'RE GOING?!?"

"I CAN'T GO BACK TO JAIL MAN! I JUST CAN'T!"

"DUDE, I KNOW! NOW CAN EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP FOR ONE SECOND AND LET ME THINK?!?"

"YOU'RE YELLING JUST AS LOUD AS WE ARE!"

"I'M SCARED, ALRIGHT?!?"

They yelled and screamed until their faces were red, trying to get Wendy to wake up or show any actual signs of still being alive. The car was jerked around on the bumpy road and they all felt a little sick themselves. It wasn't until they were able to narrowly dodge a tree did they finally realize that, in his panic and lack of decent lighting, that Robbie had accidentally driven them right off the road and into the forest—the exact opposite of where the hospital was.

"DUDE!"

"YOU'RE GONNA KILL US!"

"OH MY GOD! WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE! WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE! WE'RE GONNA DIE!"

"THOMPSON, STOP CRYING AND MAN UP! LET ME THINK OF A WAY OUT OF THIS!"

"OH YEAH, CAUSE LETTING YOU TAKE THE LEAD IS GOING SO WELL FOR US, ISN'T IT?" 

Robbie turned and glared murderously at Lee, face redder than hot lava at this point.

"OH HO, OH REALLY, LEE? REALLY? WELL, IF YOU'RE SOO SMART, WHY YOU TAKE THE WHEEL?!? EH?!? EH?!?"

"YOU KNOW WHAT? MAYBE I WILL!" 

Then Lee proceeded to lunge forwards, bending over the backseat, screaming his head off and grabbing at the wheel which Robbie throughly defended while screaming his own head off. This broke out into a fatal fight amongst friends, clawing and punching each other in the face and torso while Thompson fainted, Tambry stared in them in complete horror while hugging Wendy's lifeless body to her chest, and Nate tried to intervene as well as he could without getting hit himself.

Too bad they were headed right for a tree too thick and dark for them to notice right away. 

"GUYS!" Tambry screamed at the top of her lungs, getting their undivided attention, "LOOK OUT FOR THE—!"

The truck slammed hard into the tree, sending glass shards and shrapnel everywhere and very narrowly avoiding it being turned into a crumpled up metal sandwich, thus sparing everyone from a grisly fate, although not from the wonderful world of unconsciousness.

Watching all this from afar, a small, kind of chubby hooded figure in a brown tattered cloak and familiar glowing yellow eyes with cat like pupils smirked to himself. As he approached the wrecked car, his smile grew as he opened the door and found Wendy lying on the floor, unconscious and pale.

It's a miracle she didn't die just from their stupid mistakes alone, but she still had a steady but very, very, very faint pulse.

"ALL ACCORDING TO PLAN..."

He kneeled down and grabbed her by the ankles, dragging her limp body away from the wreckage while chuckling under his breath. Deeper and deeper into the forest they went, away from the forest and into the unknown.


	7. The Waiting Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been awhile since I've updated this story. 
> 
> Please don't shoot me, but I do have somewhat plausible excuses: high school exams are literally killing me (my stress levels have gone even beyond Up To Eleven by this point) and while I have tried to level it out by working on my review show that's currently in production (still writing script as I'm typing this and filming schedule is tight), but that's not even enough me to wind down and relax. For those of you who know me on Fictionpress and Wattpad (which is what, like, two of you?), I am currently reworking my most popular works into a manuscript that also takes up a lot of time. I might post a preview or something later in the future before I submit it, but I've pretty much given up hope on getting any actual response so I'm probably not even going to bother. Go ahead and tell me if you want me to, if any of you even care, but I'm done trying anymore. Anyway, congrats if you survived my ramblings and try to enjoy this new chapter. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to studying. Ugh, geometry, why do you exist?

Gregory William Palmer was only seven years old when he climbed over the tall wall in the cemetery with fifteen year old Walter "Wirt" Harrison Palmer and nearly drowned in the lake after narrowly avoiding a gory demise on those train tracks.

Or, at least, that's what people think.

They never truly do believe the stories he's told of their adventures in The Unknown, always believing it to be a dream of hallucination in the midst of a near death experience. Not even Wirt seemed so sure of what really happened to them. Every time the small child would even vaguely hint at The Unknown, the elder of the two would grow very pale and either made excuses as to leave or would just dance around the subject entirely. Why though? 

They had great times in The Unknown: meeting Beatrice, going to that schoolhouse with those funny little animals and that pretty lady that always seemed to sing only sad songs, going and singing in that cozy little tavern with delicious food that he hasn't had since Christmas, meeting Uncie Quincy—even though they weren't really related, riding that ferry and seeing just how special Jason Funderburker really was, seeing Wirt save Lorna from that mean spirit that was hurting him, him beating The Beast...

Didn't that matter at all to Wirt?

Granted, some of the things they saw were pretty scary—that giant were-dog, a possessed cannibalistic Lorna, and especially The Beast come first to mind, although that Adelade lady was pretty weird too—but didn't the good weigh out all the bad? It was in The Unknown Wirt had been at his happiest in a long time, excluding all those times he was actually able to function like a human being around Sara, so that clearly meant he had a little bit of fun.

He still held onto hope though, every time Wirt would ask to borrow his box of crayons.

"Why do you need them?" He'd ask.

"Dr. Hill wants me to draw a few pictures, Greg."

"Can I see them?"

"Maybe later," came the expected reply.

~

He felt like puking the minute his mother led him into the dimly lit waiting room. She had a sad yet soft little smile on her face, but it wasn't any less comforting. The room was tiny, way too tiny, with very few lamps and rows on rows of filled chairs. Even the walls were a boring cream color. His hands were shaking and the drawings clutched tightly in his hands crumpled with how tightly he was holding them. 

Why did he agree to see Dr. Hill again? He was perfectly fine. Why doesn't everyone just believe him for once?

His mother glanced over at him, a glassy look in her eyes and she was clearly biting down on the inside of her cheek. It unnerved him, seeing his mother look at him like that. Looking at him like there was something wrong with him but there wasn't—not at all. So why was everybody looking at him like that?

"Mom, please stop staring at me. I'm already uncomfortable enough just being here," he sighed, running his fingers through thick strands of chestnut locks. The older woman jerked up slightly in her seat and blinked multiple times, like she had been stuck in a pity-fueled trance up into this point. This made him want to throw up even more, but he tried to not focus to hard on the slamming sensation pooling in his gut.

"O-oh, I'm sorry honey. I didn't realize—"

"I-it's fine, Mom..." 

He knew it was rude to cut her off like that and the traces of a hurt expression that lingered on her face for a few seconds after this made him feel even more sick, but he already got the gist of what she was going to say and he already felt bad enough just for moping like usual. Instead of trying to make small talk, he stared down at his slim pale hands that laid limp on his lap. The dark red carpet that spread out throughout the room plagued most of his interest however, with the insane amount of faded stains that he really didn't want to know how they came to be.

Then a plastic toy sword smacked him right upside the head.

"Ow!" 

Rubbing the back of his head, he glared over his shoulder to see a young boy who looked to be no older than ten. The boy had a very irritated expression on his face and Wirt would say something, but he really didn't want to find what he could do with that sword, fake or not.

"Tucker!" A short woman with curly raven hair and a frumpy sweater marched over to them, her face flushed a blotchy red. The boy immediately scrambles off the chair and tries to look like the sweetest little angel despite that he had literally just swatted a complete stranger for no real reason. His mother roughly grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him by his side and whilst babbling, "Oh my gosh! I am so sorry, sir! I have no idea what's gotten into him! What have I told you about manners?"

"But I'm a knight, mama! And he's the giant! I gotta slay him and then save the princess!" 

"Manners!" 

Wirt himself flinches at the harsh growling tone she used, but he decided to just sit there in silence awkwardly with his mother and he was then suddenly aware of them being the only few people in the room. Well, that just makes everything just a little less awkward or embarrassing.

The child turned around, face bright red and Greg's trademark puppy stare in full force, and grumbled a small, "M'sorry mister..."

With a face as bright red as a ripe tomato, Wirt coughed in his hand and seemed in his seat uncomfortably for a minute, somehow managing to get out the right words he needed to say. 

"O-oh! It's..it's—ahem!—n-no problem at all, m-miss!"

And the award for most awkward conversation goes to—!

"Walter Palmer?"

He froze in his seat upon hearing somebody other than his mother refer to him by anything other than his nickname. It took him a minute to realize that she most likely signed him in that way and that a very impatient looking middle-aged man was standing in the hallway, looking between the two families for him. He actually considered just sitting in his seat quietly and letting it all pass by without any shame, but fate seems to have had other plans in store for him as his mother waves the man over and nudges him lightly on the shoulder, making him cringe very hard.

"We're here." 

That's it, he was done for. May god have mercy on his soul...

With both his mother and the man's eyes firmly on him, he sighed and gave into defeat. It was no use trying to hide and thus, he forced himself out of the hard plastic chair he suddenly found a new comfort in and very much reluctantly dragged his feet along after the man, who smiled rather pleasingly and ushered him along. 

A glance over his shoulder sealed his fate. 

There was his mother, still sitting in the waiting room, giving him a sad smile with glassy eyes. The kid was still swinging his sword all around, much to his mother's agitation. But then the scene became a little less normal, as what looked to be thick black vines began to envelope the entire room. Everyone's skin became eerily pale and even as he got further and further anyway from the scene, he could still somehow see what appeared to be every vein in their bodies bulging against their skin as if it was nothing more than latex. The kid still swung his sword, but this time he seemed to be actually hitting something as with each little slash, some strange liquid that was either black or red spilled all over the floor, staining everyones' clothes while they stayed completely unaware. His mother's eyes glowed bright, so bright it was blinding. As she opened her mouth to speak, he watched as her teeth became jagged and the insides of her mouth were suddenly flushed out by a thick and gooey crimson substance that dripped past her lips and down her body. Her neck looked crooked, bent at an unnatural angle as if it were broken. Was she dead? Was he really looking at his dead mother, straight in the eye? The other woman didn't even look like she was breathing as she laid limp in her seat, all while her kid happily bounced around as dark roots continued to overlap him. Roots started to slowly inch their way out of the waiting room, tailing him.

The man's large and warm hand on his back made him nearly suffer a heart attack, but one glance into those warm brown eyes made him suddenly feel a whole lot safer. So he allowed himself to be led into another room, just trying to block everything out.

"Be sure to tell me how it goes, Wirt..."

~  
Greg came home with his black crayon broken, snapped right in half. It wasn't his fault really; it was mean ol' Jeremy Vincent who decided to throw his box of crayons on the floor during coloring time. He never liked Greg for some odd reason, always calling him names and shoving twigs in his hair after the little boy told everyone he went to school with about his journey to The Unknown. Everybody treated him differently after that, but Jeremy Vincent was definitely the cruelest.

This was bad for a six year old who just wants to help his wonderful big brother out. Wirt always used the black crayon for his pictures and now it was broken. What would he say? Would he hate him for the rest of his life? Little Gregory couldn't bare the thought of Wirt hating him, not after everything he went through. So he did what any panicking kid in his situation would do: he pretended it never happened. 

He stuffed the two halves of the crayon into his piggy bank, knowing that would be the last place Wirt or their parents would look. He wouldn't get in trouble now!

Still, he couldn't help but feel a little queasy as he listened in the next room, hearing the sweaty awkward teen curse under his breath as he messed up yet another note for his solo at the recital. Wirt had been practicing a lot lately and Greg would hear every minute of it. Not that there was nothing to worry about, Wirt was a great musician!

He looked over at Jason sitting in his cage, watching the scene play out. Realizing he had an onlooker, Greg glared sternly at the frog and pressed a finger to his lips.

Jason croaked.

"This is just between you and me, Jason Funderburker. No telling, okay? Or no flies for a week!" At least until he found a way to fix the crayon.

Jason croaked again.

~

Wendy groaned as she sat up, a pounding sensation slamming against her temples. The last thing she remembered was going into that gas station restroom with Tambry and then...wait, where was she? 

Leaves provided a nice fusion between her and the hard ground of the forest. Her vision swam and she laid back down, staring up at the high treetops and star graced sky. She honestly felt like she was going to puke again, and for all the wrong reasons.

Where was everyone? She couldn't see any signs that her friends were with her, like footprints or the lingering scent of Tambry's perfume. She was also suddenly aware that she was soaking wet, so all the dirt, leaves, and grass stuck to her like she was glue. Why would they just leave her here like this? Why was she wet? Where was she? It hurt to even think.

"Hello?" She called out, shaking as a sudden gust of wind swept over her soaked body. The sound of her own voice bounced around the forest and she was actually shocked at how scared she honestly sounded. She was a flipping Corduroy! She wasn't afraid of anything! But now this? This is what made her scared?

Her attempt to sit up made her stomach churn in such painful ways and her back slammed against the hard ground as she moaned. It's clear that she wasn't getting up anytime soon, let alone at that very moment if she didn't feel liking coughing her insides out.

"Robbie? Tambry? Lee? Nate? Thompson! Where are you guys? HELLO?!?"

She was awarded with an uncomfortable amount of silence for her efforts. With a groan, she closed her eyes and ended up passing out yet again. She failed to notice that in the bushes not too far from where she laid, there was a soft rustling.


	8. Blink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Wendy's disappearance becomes known by the public, the said girl finds an ally in another snarky redhead, Wirt and Greg have an alluring new neighbor, and our nefarious trio officially enter Stage 1 of their plan.

To say their wasn't a lot of newsworthy moments in Gravity Falls would be a big fat lie in big, red, bold letters. 

There had always been something interesting to report on, whenever or not the public actually cared or not. Granted, most of the time it was the latter, but ever since Weirdmageddon happened, news stations all around the hick town jumped at every gross, horrifying, or intriguing story thrown their way without a care in the world. Whenever or not what was reported was actually real was arguably where most of the controversy came from. 

This story though, the public wasn't so sure about. 

"This just in," came in the baritone voice of famed news-woman, Shandra Jimenez, from every television set, radio speaker, or soup can in town. "Local teenage rebel and daughter of esteemed lumberjack, Wendy Blerble Cordurory, has been just reported missing by the authorities." 

There was a brief cutaway to popular town policemen and beloved doofus boyfriends, Sheriff Daryl Blubs and Deputy Edwin Durland, with a microphone shoved up to their noses but still looking as both unfocused and love-struck as ever. 

"Yup, that girl is defiantly gone," said Blubs.

"Yerrup!" Hiccuped Durland.

"Vanished without a trace." Said Blubs. 

"Yerrup!" Hiccuped Durland. 

Behind the scenes, both the cameraman and reporter exchanged looks. 

"But are you certain she's not maybe playing some stupid game? Maybe check around the perimeter again?" Shandra suggested, as she held the microphone closer to the point where it was just barely brushing against their noses. 

There was an awkward silence as the duo stared at the camera with dumb, goofy expressions and happy smiles. Then came the familiar hums and buzzing of their tasers firing up. 

"Just trust your sheriff, folks." Said Blubs. 

"Yerrup!" Hiccuped Durland. 

—  
When Wendy came to, she felt something soft and damp being pressed against her forehead. There were gentle sounds in the background, such as warm humming, the pitter-patter of running feet, and bluebirds chirping. 

When she awoke, very groggily, she noticed the plump, smiling face of the older woman staring down at her. Her company had fat, rosy cheeks decorated with freckles, bright blue eyes, and even brighter red hand tied back in a tradition housewife style with that white hat thing and everything. She almost reminded Wendy of the Raggedy Ann doll she owned as a child, before one of her stupid little brothers "accidentally" chucked it in the fireplace when she was babysitting. 

She wanted to laugh, lazily tilting her head to the side and staring up at a grey ceiling with a weary smile. This was it; she was in heaven. That expired cider killed her and she was in heaven with a stupid doll she only now remembered she used to own. It would be too easy to fall right back asleep, to be dreadfully unaware of the afterlife and simply float around in the vastness of space, but her doll's gentle hand dabbing the cloth on her hot skin only pulled her back. 

Squeezing the doll's hand that was gently cupping her wrist, she couldn't help but tear up. Wait, tear up? She's a Corduroy! Corduroy's don't cry! But she didn't have the energy to wipe them away just yet. Just enjoy the moment of peace. 

"Oh good, you're awake!" Raggedy Ann sighed happily, setting the cloth down on the hard floor–wood, she could faintly make out–and quickly made an odd hand motion to the side, as if she were ushering somebody over. Raggedy Andy perhaps? 

"How do you feel? Hungry? Sore? Sick? Feverish? Hungry? Oh wait, I already said that..." 

Wendy scrunched her nose a bit as she tried to adjust to her rather uncomfortable position on the feel. Weird how you can still feel pain, even as a spirit. Oh well, stories can't get everything right. 

"T-tired..." Her voice sounded way too hoarse. Hopefully the afterlife serves lattes this early. "Ann...I...is it you? I know Luke chucked you in the fire but I didn't know dolls could go to heaven. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-" 

"Whoa there, sweetheart," came that soothing voice as a glass was held up to her dry, dry lips. 

Wendy could barely feel herself being lifted up into a sitting position, only vaguely registering her head tilting backwards at an awkward angle, but relishing in the sweet relief that was the icy water pouring down her throat. She greedily lapped up every drop she could before suddenly being cut off by a sneaky cough and the glass was suddenly pulled away. She leaned to her side, back twisted at an angle so that she wouldn't make a mess of herself or her guest. 

Long story short, she ended up puking all over the floor. 

Groaning, she didn't bother to brush her long tussled hair out of her face as she lazily tried to brush away any dangling strands of vomit off from her chin with a shaky wrist, heaving as a large hand rubbed large circles on her back. 

"Sick huh? That's alright sweetie, my children get sick all the time, especially since most of them are young'ins. Just sit tight and rest for a bit while I whip up the best herbal tea you'll never forget!" And with that, the kind Raggedy Ann-looking woman waddled away in a dark green dress and white apron that resembled something Wendy could've sworn she saw once on Pioneer Day. 

Still, she could've help but show more than a little embarrassment as a pretty red-headed girl in a blue dress ran in with a mop and bucket to clean up her mess, with her letting out a hoarse sorry with no acknowledgement given. So she just sat there for a moment, allowing herself to become somewhat aware of her surroundings. 

She was in a house, nothing too extravagant, just a plain old, cozy little house. There was fireplace and two sofas placed parallel of one another. There was a small rung that a white dog with brown spots was cozied up on, catching some Z's. Meanwhile she was lying on what she first assumed was a cot, until she felt the material and realized was just a plain old sheet. There was clinking and low humming very close by, so she assumed that was the kitchen. 

A delightful smell wafted into the room, or at least that's what she thought. The girl in blue took a moment to pause from her mopping to take in a breather and instantly made a face of disgust. 

"Ick! Mom's making that stuff again!" She paused, looked over at Wendy, and suddenly the room felt very, very hot. 

"Do you want me to leave this out just in case, well, you know..."

Wendy didn't get a chance to answer as the girl's mother skipped back in, a delicate China teacup in her hands with steam rising from the top. The girl resumed her work, whistling innocently, while the woman handed Wendy her tea. 

"Here ya go, sweetie! Made fresh with herbs from Ms. Whispers garden!" 

The girl scoffed but quickly went back to smiling and whistling not even a second after her mother shot her a warning glare. Wendy, meanwhile, smiled softly and inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet, sweet aroma without a care in the world. 

"Th-thank you so much, Miss–" she paused to cough, after all it was no time to talk with a voice like that. "Miss–" 

"Oh honey, save your voice!" The woman cried, kneeling down beside her. Wendy nodded as her long bangs were suddenly pushed back and gently tucked behind her ear. "I'm Margaret Altair, and that over there is my...loving daughter, Beatrice." 

Wendy glanced over at the girl–Beatrice–who gave her a wave before going back to mopping up the vomit. With a small smile, she nodded in acknowledgment and inhaled the sweet smell of the tea before shakily lifting the cup to her lips and taking a long sip. 

She vomited again. 

—  
"We now talk with the father of this unfortunate victim, Manly Dan Evelyn Corduroy. Manly Dan, what do you think happened to your daught—?" 

Shandra didn't even have time to finish the question as the microphones was suddenly ripped away from her delicate hand into the large, shaky fist of a furious, furious father. 

"IF THE PERSON WHO TOOK MY PRECIOUS BABY GIRL AWAY FROM ME IS WATCHING THIS, IF YOU DON'T GIVE HER BACK IMMEDIATELY, I'LL HUNT YOU DOWN, STOMP ON YOUR THROAT, RIP YOUR CHEST OPEN, TEAR OUT YOUR HEART, CHOP IT INTO LITTLE PIECES, DUMP A TON OF SALT ON IT, SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROATS UNTIL YOU CHOKE ON IT, AND THEN I'M GONNA TAKE THIS AXE AND CHOP OFF YOUR–!" 

A large portion of this following rant ended up having to be heavily censored as the language it contained ended up being so unapologetically vulgar that even a high profile sailor who blush. It had since been replaced with a loud ongoing bleep sound effect as the lumberjack screamed and screamed until his large beard was indistinguishable from the rest of his face, while bystanders either ran away with their childrens' ears covered or their own ears covered. As Dan swung his axe around as the literal mad man that he was and made excessively lewd hand gestures, even Shandra and the cameraman began to look noticeably nervous, the latter of which started to slowly back away. In fact, the only reason the former even dared to stick around was to retrieve her microphone, which he didn't even need by this point and had already begun to crush it in his meaty fist. 

It was when he punched a nearby tree so hard that he ended causing a chain reaction of tree after tree causing each other to fall like a stack of dominos creeping closer and closer to the unfortunate camera man, who screamed and ran from the scene like it was hell on earth, as anyone left staggering behind after the swear storm followed into pursuit. Even Shandra managed to get back her pitiful, shriveled form of a microphone and somehow managed to sprint past him in heels, still smiling and looking pretty like the professional that she was. 

"Thank you Manly Dan for your insightful thoughts!" 

The beep was suddenly cut off as the swearing was put on halt for the man the scream, in full volume despite being about a mile away by that point, "YOU HEAR THAT?!? YOU HEAR THAT?!? DON'T LET ME FIND YOU, YOU JERKS! I MEAN IT! SHE WAS SO YOUNG!" 

As the manly man wept manly tears of manliness, trees continued to crash down harder and harder. Having an apparent suicide wish, the camera man, with his trusty camera, spares one last glance at the grieving father who had now pulled all three of his younger, scrawny sons into a hug that no doubt broke a few bones and made their faces pale. 

"Dad!" 

"We can't breathe!" 

"BASK IN DADDY'S MANLINESS, LITTLE ONES! I'll protect you..." 

The camera man lets out a hum of approval before realizing something very, very important. Most specifically, the very large and thick tree tumbling down on top of him at a very, very fast angle, looming in closer and closer to the camera. 

He took off running again. 

"Oh SHI–" 

There's a loud crash, the sound of glass shattering, and the screen goes to static before cutting to a sign. 

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES.  
PLEASE STAND BY.  


—  
Beatrice sighed as she scrubbed furiously at the white cotton tank top in the basin with the sponge, in a vain attempt of ridding the clothes of the dirt and mess that had stained it. 

Wendy, after getting literally everything out of her system, was ushered upstairs by Mrs. Margaret for a bath and a fresh change of clothes. Washing in a literal tub was overall pretty awkward, especially with the only other girl there sent in to help out upon the realization that their guest had no idea what she was doing. It was especially awkward with Beatrice having to "guide her" through the experience, hands on, with her eyes closed and a very red face. 

The latter sincerely hoped Wendy wasn't lying when she claimed to have gotten the hang out it. 

But as she was now dried off in a towel, she rummaged through Beatrice's closest, upon realizing that the two had a similar dress size, for a formidable outfit but found none to her taste. Although the ones with gold coins sewn into them were certainly eye-catching, to say the least. 

"So, how did you guys find me?" 

Beatrice paused from her scrubbing, glanced over at the girl, and shrugged. 

"I don't honestly know how exactly. My dad and brother, Jared, said they found you when they went hunting in the woods." 

"Hunting? Why don't you just go to the store?" 

Beatrice paused for a second before seemingly realizing what she really meant. So, she continued to scrub. "Well, we go to the market every Sunday, but we usually try to get pure animal meat due to it just tasting better." 

"Isn't hunting animals for food illegal?" 

"Has it ever been?" 

"I...don't know."

"Right..." 

So they went back to their duties, scrubbing and rummaging for a few more minutes in silence. 

That is, until: 

"Wait, the store's open all the time!"

Beatrice paused, nearly dropping her brush in the wash, as she tried to process what had just been said whilst crinkling her nose and squinting her eyes. She looked back over at Wendy, who was currently examining a green dress with interest. 

"What are you talking about? The market's only open on the weekend." 

Wendy gave her an odd look.

"No, last I checked it was open twenty-four hours a day." 

Beatrice's eyebrows rose at this proclamation. 

"It is?" 

Wendy shrugged, holding out the dress and looking over it in a body-length, ovular mirror. 

"I mean, that's how it usually is near here." 

"Where's here?" 

"Near Gravity Falls, duh! The supermarket's open all the time!" 

Beatrice did drop the sponge in the wash this time, and her eyes went wide as the realization hit her like a rock at a bird. The odd, inappropriate clothing, the strange use of slang, the smell of hairspray...this wasn't just a girl from the town. 

This was a lost kid. 

Feeling dread creep into her stomach, she breathed in and out and stared at the bubbly concoction in the bucket sitting at her knees. But no matter how much she tried to control it, bile rose in her throat and her gloved hands shook. 

Calm down, Beatrice. Think rationally, you saw him get destroyed. His lantern was blown out by that Woodsman. There's no way he could be back. I mean, who could relight a freaking soul for the lord's sake? 

But still she couldn't help but have that feeling. 

Where does she think she is? 

"Hey, this actually would look pretty good on me," Wendy said, admiring herself in the mirror with the long sleeved, turquoise blue dress with a low neckline in her hand, "but you're sure you don't have anything in flannel?" 

Beatrice rolled her eyes.

—  
"We are now in the Gravity Falls General Hospital, here to see the fellow witnesses with Ms. Corduroy on the night of her disappearance. Unfortunately, due to our previous camera man's unfortunate...accident..." 

There was a pause as the camera swung around to show Toby Determined, now commonly called "Bodacious T" wrapped head-to-toe in a very body cast and lying on a hospital bed. Even his Mohawk was somehow bandaged. 

"I can't feel my legs...or anything really..." He whined, muffled by the bandages wrapped over his mouth. 

Shandra tried to look as sincere as she could in a professional sense, really meaning not in the slightest, as she deadpanned, "Our apologizes, T. Your next paycheck will be sure to cover your medical bills."

"Hooray!" 

"Anyway," back to the news then, "we move on to speak with the victims of the crash Ms. Corduroy disappeared in. Those teenagers are notorious high school delinquents: Robbie Stacey Valentino, Trambry Michelle DiCicco, Lee Richard Rianda, Lee Lulu Mendel, and Thompson Sheldon Dweebous. Prepare yourselves to hear their daring stories of bravery..."

—  
"AHHHH!"

"IDINDOANATHANG!"

"MOMMY! DADDY! IT HURTS! DEAR MOTHER OF GOD IT HURTS!"

"I SEE THE LIGHT! IT'S FLASHING BEFORE MY EYES!" 

"That's the ceiling light above you. It's about to go out." 

"Oh...AHHHHHH! IT'S ABOUT TO GO OUT! I DON'T WANNA GO OUT! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!"

—  
There was a knock on the door, which Ms. Palmer was all too hesitant to answer. It wasn't a silly thought, that she always feared there would be a stranger telling bad news concerning her sons but now they were home, asleep in their beds at one in the morning. 

Holding the door open at a crack, she was alarmed by bright, bright, almost looking white, blue eyes peering through the cracks against the darkness, although she could vaguely make out the shape of this man's head. 

Then there was a smile, kind and gentle, with each tooth pearly white. 

"Is this the Palmers residence?" 

Sheila Palmer swallowed nervously. He'd only said one sentence and she already didn't trust him; he could be hiding a gun for all she knew. 

"W-why?"

The man smiled, and squeezed his black gloved hand through the crack in the door–making the woman jump–but instead of a weapon, as expected, there was a small bouquet of flowers.

White roses to be exact. 

"My name is Thomas Ripley, although I mostly go by Ripley," he explained in a calm, soft voice, "I just moved here and I will be going to the same school as Wirt. In fact, I think we're in the same grade! He's a freshman, right?" 

Mrs. Palmer looked over the man, or boy, as good as she could from this angle. 

"You don't look like a high schooler..." 

"Oh, that's what they all say!" 

Nodding, Mrs. Palmer took the roses and began to slowly inch the door closed. She didn't trust this boy, no matter what he claimed. Still, she tried to be as nice as possible. 

"Well it's very nice to meet you, uh, Ripley! I'm sure you and Wirt will have a lot to talk about later on in the day! Now go and get some sleep, okay? Goodnight!" 

The door was closed with one last word. 

"Goodnight." 

—  
"And now, we talk with Ms. Corduroy's employer, former Mystery Shack handyman, turned recent Mr. Mystery after having the mantle passed down by town hero, Stanley Pines, we present to you: Jesus "Soos" Alzamirano Ramirez. Mr. Ramirez, what do you think of this tragedy involving your star employee?"

As Soos suddenly had a live camera on him, he felt a lot hotter in his suit than he previously thought. Tugging at his sweaty collar, he smiled with shaky teeth and coughed a bit into the microphone. 

"W-well, I wouldn't say that this is a t-tragedy exactly as it is a...r-regular occurrence. You see, W-Wendy's cool, dawg, a-and she'll sometimes skip out on w-work and I'll l-let her because I'll say 'hey, y-you're cool, d-dawg', a-and she'll say..."

He trailed off, his eyes glazing over and his mouth hanging open as he tried to get the words out of his mouth, too many sets off eyes on him, and he ended up glancing over at the soda machine in wonder. 

"UNEXPECTED DISTRACTION!"

Then, without warning, he grabbed the cash register, yanked it right off its cord, and chucked it right at the soda machine. Innocent, stupid tourists cried out and struggled to get out of the way of the heavy, money-filled missile. It smashed into the control panel, sending out a shower of sparks and a loud boom could be heard. The register, however, stayed perfectly in tact—so no free money was taken out of this—and landed on the floor with a crash. 

There was a moment of silence as Soos, Shandra, the new camera guy, and everyone else watched smoke rise from the soda machine, immediately setting off the sprinklers and giving them all an early shower. 

"Oh look, the soda machine is broken," Soos said in a voice that was more akin to a robot than anything else, his toolbox in his grasp all of a sudden. "I must go fix it because that's what I do. Fixing things that are broken. Doo, doo, doo, going to fix things..." 

Everyone was so busy staring at the man who was no doubt a mystery at the moment or trying not to get wet from the sprinklers, that nobody noticed one of the triangular windows high on the wall blink just once. 

Shandra looked at the camera and then back on Soos, who was still in his own little world repairing the machine whilst singing a little ditty. She gave up at long last and shrugged. 

"And now back to Brady in the studio, with the daily cute cat video."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Crawls out from bunker*  
> Well, it's certainly been a long time gone, hasn't it? 
> 
> Life isn't really easy when your struggling with school, having to cope with the loss of your grandmother, or having writer's block. But just so you all know: I never plan on abandoning this story. Why would I? It's earned me a surprising amount of fans and followers within this past year alone! I never expected my honestly unexpected hiatus to go on for this long with little warning. Like I stated previously, I just lost a dear family member and needed time to reconsider where I want to go with this story, as well as work on my own novel, Skin Trade. 
> 
> I've come to a decision where I want to go with this story; for those of you out there wondering when my garden sweethearts will hightail it to Gravity Falls, this is for you's. 
> 
> As of now, this story will be in three parts, as followed:  
> • Chapters 1-21 will be Part I: Winter (The build-up for when they arrive in GF)  
> • Chapters 22-42 will be Part II: Summer (For when they are actually in GF)  
> • Chapters 43 onwards will be the surprise plot, although I have a feeling you all probably know what it is.
> 
> If any of you have a problem with this, I sincerely apologize. I will also try to keep a scheduled release of each chapter, although I can't make promises. In all honesty, I think I work better the more time I take, as I personally think this is my best chapter yet. I've tried to tap into so many voices of so many characters, it's a little overwhelming, but hey, still had fun. 
> 
> I'll also be posting stories for my other fandoms like Sherlock, Merlin, SU, Eddsworld, Tin Man, etc. as well as my own original work "I Had A Best Friend Named Anne". Can't wait to get started! 
> 
> Apologies if my writing looks off. Again, working on original novel, and thus, research ahoy! Oh yes, it's one those stories. 
> 
> And now, I must crawl back into my bunker for hibernation (at least until my birthday–October 9th–or when I come back to you, adore) 
> 
> Until we meet again, my pretties!


	9. Wants and Needs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a short chapter, next one will be longer and more interesting, I promise. This is like a breather chapter, nothing far too different. That is, if you don't look closely ;-)

Come wayward souls  
Who wander through the darkness  
There is a light for the lost and the meek...

Wirt heaved out a long little sigh as he finished his rendition, shakily lowering his clarinet that he kept in a tight grip since before he even started. He could hear the applause, the cheers, Greg's cheers alone were enough, and the white stage lights burning his eyes whilst he stood on an empty stage in an itchy suit and a suffocating tie. But then he opened his eyes, and he stared in the bathroom mirror with weary eyes. A pale face, matted brown hair, and clammy skin became his trademark look around twelve o'clock in the morning, it was two at the moment. 

It wasn't like he wanted to be up this late in the hour—but it was just that he always messed up that one last note! One wrong move and his rendition of "Oh Holy Night"—as heartfelt as an emotional fifteen-going-on-sixteen year old can make it out to be using only a clarinet and a soundproof bathroom with only his judgement to be based upon—delves straight into this ugly train wreck over a winding river, endlessly flowing down the with the souls of our content, leading us to a path of misery and despair that we cannot be cured from with the simplest of medicines and can only be matched with...

Sighing, he ran a single hand through his messy hair in contempt; there he goes, thinking too much again. He needed sleep, that wasn't hard to see just from his initial appearance alone, but he didn't want it, not yet. Wants and needs were two different things for reasons that escaped him at that time. The lines had become just as blurred as the edges of his vision by that point. 

For the blink of a second, he momentary glanced over at the skinny orange bottle filled halfway with bright red pills and a tight white cap that sat vacant on the porcelain countertop next to Greg's vitamin gummy-bears, the outlier from all the other pills and medication. Wirt remembered the conversation with Dr. Hill that led up to him being forced to chug one of those monsters down twice a day as if it were yesterday, despite it being five months ago and no need for a refill yet so far. 

"What has been on your mind lately, Wirt?" 

There's a loud clatter bouncing off the tiled floor, almost plastic-like, but he paid that no mind. He instead pictured the leather couch pressed against his back, tilted his head up, and stared at the ceiling. His palms digging into the squishy material, freshly-trimmed nails casually picking at the ridged cross-stitch patterns, and he took a bit his lip, unsure. 

"Don't worry, my boy, take your time. We have as long as you want to discuss these matters." 

Then the man dressed in the nice suit and the bushy mustache leaned back in his rolling chair and smiled, hands crossed neatly on his lap. Wirt could never tell if his patience was authentic or not. 

"Remember, you can tell me anything. By law, I'm not allowed to disclose any private information outside this office." 

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, clenched and unclenched his fists that lay dormant at his sides, thought out his words...and then opened his eyes, grasped the bottle of pills and a glass that was placed next to the toothpaste, filled it to the brim, and chugged. The water tasted slightly foul, not cold enough, and the pill melted on his tongue, hard to swallow. 

Wirt coughed up and sputtered. 

He still coughed as he gathered his clarinet off the floor, slinked out of the bathroom, and into his room. He wanted to sleep now and he kept the pill tucked underneath his tongue. 

"What are you thinking about, Wirt?" 

~

"WHAT'RE YOU THINKING ABOUT, KID?" 

Gideon flinched as a skinny black arm snaked around his clumpy shoulders, feeling as if the skin was melded together by loosening twine. The crackles of the fire were the only noises throughout the endlessly forest of Nowhere in The Unknown, as The Beast sat across from him as silent as the trees around them. He nearly yelped when he was suddenly pulled onto a sharp corner as Bill crossed his skinny little legs and levitated happily. The axe leaning against the log drooped slightly.

"Nothin' Bill. Not at tha moment, anyway." 

Bill chuckled, bopping his longtime partner on the adorable button nose as said partner flinched. That one giant eye stood stark to the bright yellow that glowed brighter than the campfire in the darkness. 

"OH, HAIR GEL, IT'S CUTE YOU THINK YOU CAN LIE TO ME! HOW ABOUT YOU LET ME HAVE A LITTLE PEAK, EH?" 

"He's right, you know," came The Beast's monotone voice that was quite rich and smooth in stark contrast to Bill's loud and excited with something nasally thrown in there somewhere. "What's on your mind, boy?" 

The little boy couldn't help but feel uneasy as those rainbow ringed eyes peered upon and stared him down with something of a sneer. He had become accustomed to The Unknown for the past month and a half and he knew those eyes quite well by this point. The Beast was the one who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer and he'd manipulate anyone and everyone into saying yes and being putty in his hands, whilst Bill robbed those of their every inner thought. 

In a way, they were perfect for each other; the perfect couple. 

He bit his lip, staring down at his knees and then the hilt of the axe that gleamed in the firelight. Bill roughly nudged him, nearly shoving him off the log, whilst The Beast chuckled nonchalantly as if it were a in-joke between friends. If it was, he didn't get it, but he guessed that's what happens when demons hang out together. 

"I...I dunno, really, I just...just..." 

He was thinking of something, someone maybe, but it was all sorts of fuzzy. Glancing around The Unknown, in the inky darkness surrounding the trio and two sets of inhuman eyes exchanging sly looks and grins. The Beast tugged his cloak closer to his withering body, the hood up and over his head—his antlers were only wee buds—and let out soft grunts as he struggled to stand on his feet; he had been sitting around too long. 

"WHOA THERE, TOPIARY! DON'T GO DOING GYMNASTICS ON ME!" 

The Beast hummed, his eyes closing and opening as he heaved. Gideon glanced over at the lantern sitting on the now vacant log, that little light flickering and shaking with each breath. Then the monster began to cough, sputtering and heaving and falling to his knees as he gasped. Bill floated over to the being, as calm as the gentle breeze, whilst Gideon tried to focus on the light that was growing dimmer and dimmer with each dry cough. It was just so...interesting.

From the corner of his eye, he saw The Beast pull something small and red out of his mouth and toss it to the forest floor with a grunt of disgust. Bill helped from up with a smug look, which The Beast countered with a glare, and happily led his friend back over to his soul. 

For awhile, they sat there in the fire-crackling silence, not meeting one stare or saying a word. Or maybe they were exchanging words, Gideon certainly couldn't read minds. 

"William...you never told me how you were beaten by those brats you always talk about. Why not tell this boy a story?" 

Bill giggled, rubbing his hands together and crossing his legs. 

"OH, TRUST ME, YOU'RE GOING TO WISH YOU WEREN'T ME! IN FACT, I'D SAY THAT MY DEATH WAS MORE PAINFUL AND DRAWN OUT THAN YOUR'S! YOU WENT OUT IN A PUFF OF SMOKE, I WAS OUTSMARTED BY MY OWN PAWNS! ANYWAY…" 

Gideon glanced around the two demons, watched as The Beast glared as Bill continued on with his story. Of course, he altered a few details: about how he incinerated Mabel Pines and let her brother, Dipper, to wallow in his misery or how he dragged Stanley Pines with him into erasure for all eternity. At some point, he burned a crude drawing of a sailboat into the log, expressing desire to see his old friend Fordsy again. 

Soon enough, dawn rises, the fire dims, and Gideon exchanged one look with The Beast, shivered and wrapped up in his tattered cloak. One eye cracked upon, the iris ringed in the colors of the rainbow and that only meant one thing. 

With a sigh, Gideon grabbed his axe and waddled away into the woods.


End file.
